


On the Morrow

by shadowwalker213



Series: Covenant [3]
Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:30:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 86,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowwalker213/pseuds/shadowwalker213
Summary: Very special thanks for Junkfoodmonkey's astute advice.
Series: Covenant [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1361263
Comments: 39
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very special thanks for Junkfoodmonkey's astute advice.

_Tomorrow is not a promise. Tomorrow is a second chance. - J.R. Rim_

**October 15 1976 - 8 Days**  
  
They had been driving for some time now; how long exactly, Hannibal didn't know. His arm still rested across Face's shoulders. Lightly, so he wouldn't feel threatened, but there, so he'd know Hannibal was close. That seemed to be important. The few times Hannibal had moved, trying to get comfortable among the duffels and supplies, Face had reacted almost frantically. A few quiet words had calmed him down again, but Hannibal wasn't sure he liked the sudden change from hatred and distrust to this. It still wasn't right.  
  
It still wasn't Face.  
  
The van suddenly began to slow and Hannibal looked up, frowning. Trouble? More trouble? His frown deepened as they rolled to a gentle stop. BA turned around in his seat, looking uncertainly to the back of the van.  
  
"We only a few miles from..." He looked from Hannibal to Face, who so far seemed oblivious to the unexpected stop. Murdock had now turned to the back, also looking at Face, nervous. Hannibal didn't understand at first - too tired, too worn out, he surmised - but then it hit him like a hammer.  
  
How do they pull up in front of the VA psych unit without Face jumping to the wrong conclusions? And how would he react to Murdock being there? Would he think it was just a ploy to get him locked up again? Or would he see Murdock as a kindred soul? Hannibal suddenly realized that Face's reaction could be more crucial, perhaps, to Murdock than it was to Face. If Face acted with indifference after all Murdock had gone through, with the guilt he felt...  
  
Hannibal took a quick glance out the window. There was a small coffee shop across the street, already open.  
  
"Okay, BA. Why don't you and Murdock go get some coffee? Keep an eye out." He knew BA knew that meant watch for MPs as well as trouble in the van. Hopefully, they'd run into neither.  
  
Murdock was less willing to leave, but a look from Hannibal took any arguments out of his mouth. All the same, he kept looking back at the van as the two men crossed the street and disappeared into the diner.  
  
Face had watched them leave, and Hannibal felt his shoulder muscles tense.  
  
"They're just going for coffee, Face. I thought you and I would have a little talk. If that's okay with you." No pressure. His choice. Hannibal knew, regardless of how Face was feeling toward him right now, it was important to still leave him an out.  
  
Face looked straight ahead for a moment, then sighed and nodded. Though encouraged, Hannibal reminded himself to go slow, explain everything simply but thoroughly.  
  
"We're in LA now, Face. In a little while, we're going to be dropping Murdock off where he...lives. Then you and I and BA are going to go to my place for a while. Okay? You're going with us after we drop Murdock off."  
  
Face frowned, obviously puzzled, but nodded.  
  
So far, so good.  
  
"Now, I want you to think back for a minute. You remember how Murdock was back in Nam? You came to me, about the way he was acting. Do you remember that?"  
  
Again, Face nodded.  
  
"Well, you were right, Face. Murdock wasn't doing too well then, and after we...lost you, it got worse. He managed for a few months, but then he had a breakdown. Bad. And he ended up in the VA psych unit here in LA."  
  
Face said nothing, but he sat up straighter. Hannibal waited a moment, feeling his own tension mounting. Hoping to God he was going about this the right way.  
  
"That's where we're dropping him off, before you and I and BA go to my place." Keep reminding him of that. "This one isn't like where you were, Face. Murdock likes it, and he's getting good help there. He's getting better, and one day he'll be able to leave. But right now, that's where he lives. So we're taking him home. That's all." He looked at Face, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. Make it clear. "We are not taking you there, Face. You're staying with BA and me. Only Murdock is going to the hospital. Okay?"  
  
Hannibal waited. He needed to get some kind of response now, had to know which direction they would be taking.  
  
Face was silent for what seemed like hours. When he finally spoke, it took Hannibal by surprise.  
  
"It's nice there?"  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was watching the van through the filthy window of the diner. He'd taken one look at the coffee - as greasy as the window - and pushed the cup aside. BA sat calmly, but Murdock noticed he never stopped stirring his own coffee.  
  
"You think they're okay?"  
  
BA frowned, but his answer was soft. "As okay as they can be, yeah. Hannibal'd let us know otherwise."  
  
"What if he signaled and we missed it?"  
  
"Ain't gonna miss it. Between you and me, no way we're missin nothin."  
  
Murdock sighed, knowing BA was right. He might not have looked like it, but BA had been keeping as keen an eye on that van as Murdock had. That fight back at the truck stop hadn't been forgotten. Not at all.  
  
Murdock looked again through the window, lost in his own thoughts. BA cleared his throat, making him jump.  
  
"You okay with this? Goin back, I mean?"  
  
Murdock sat back, blinking. Since when was BA concerned about Murdock being okay with anything? But BA was staring out the window and Murdock couldn't tell what he was really thinking.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I got to, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Can't help that."  
  
"I know." Murdock looked helplessly at the now cold cup of coffee. "I did okay, though, right? I mean..."  
  
BA grimaced, and Murdock was pretty sure he was sorry he'd said anything. "Yeah, you did okay. But you need to go back now. Been long enough."  
  
Maybe too long? Murdock wondered how much BA had noticed. He saw a lot, even if he didn't say anything.  
  
"You think it's going to work, BA? You guys and Face, I mean."  
  
"Dunno. He ain't like you."  
  
Murdock sighed. No, Face was definitely not like him. Murdock would never dream of taking on Hannibal, let alone Hannibal and BA together. And he sure as hell wouldn't come out looking better than they did.  
  
Murdock was unpredictable but in a predictable sort of way. His actions, however wild, fit his moods, and his moods were pretty obvious. Face, on the other hand, was like unexploded ordnance; they never knew if it would just lie there or...  
  
Murdock was difficult; Face was dangerous.  
  
Murdock brought himself back to the present. "What if it doesn't work?"  
  
"You worry about your own problems." The familiar glare was back now. Conversation over.  
  
They sat, uncomfortable now, for several long minutes, and then BA sat up straight. He relaxed slightly, nodding.  
  
"They ready for us now."  
  
*****  
  
"It's nice there?"  
  
Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment before answering. "Yes. Murdock will be fine there, Face. Really." This was good. He hoped, anyway. Face making the connection with Murdock; maybe not worried, exactly, but concerned. Yes. This was good.  
  
"They've helped him? He's getting better?"  
  
"Yes. Slowly, but he is getting better." Hannibal waited for more, but Face was silent. "Would you like to talk to Murdock about it? Before we drop him off?"  
  
Face nodded, still hesitant, and Hannibal, taking care to make the gesture casual, waved a beckoning hand next to the window. Moments later, the side door slid open and two deliberately calm faces stared in.  
  
"Murdock, Face would like to talk to you about the VA. Find out how they treat you there, make sure you're okay. Would you mind?"  
  
Murdock looked surprised, but wary. Hannibal knew the cadence of his voice had alerted him. Tread lightly. If Face thought for a moment Murdock would not be safe at the VA...  
  
Murdock stepped into the van, sitting sideways in his seat, facing the two men. He smiled brightly. BA leaned casually against the doorframe.  
  
"No problem, Face. Ask away."  
  
Face looked up at him, quickly, then looked to the floor, silent.  
  
Murdock frowned, looking up at Hannibal, who just nodded.  
  
This might take some time.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock shifted, trying to get comfortable. Face still hadn't said anything, although he was fiddling with his jacket hem. Murdock knew that maneuver - wanting to think about anything except what you were supposed to be thinking about. He also remembered Richter's method of getting around that - the patience of Job. Face was actually concerned about him; that was a big step, made Murdock feel...absolved. Yeah, he was willing to wait.  
  
"Is it clean there?"  
  
Murdock almost didn't catch it, it was spoken so softly, so suddenly.  
  
"Yeah, real clean." He thought quickly, remembering that other hospital. "They wash the floors two or three times a week, and change the linen every other day, and they have a laundry room, so we can wash clothes whenever we want to." Face frowned at that, and Murdock hurried on. "Or we can put them out, too, in a hamper, and the hospital staff will do it for us." He didn't add that was only for the guys who were still too out of it to take care of themselves. Didn't matter, after all. Face was only feeling his way yet. Asking about the safe things.  
  
"The food?"  
  
"Real good food, Face. And plenty of it. They make the best lasagna..."  
  
Hannibal raised an eyebrow. Okay. Don't get carried away.  
  
"How...how do you spend your time? I mean..."  
  
"Well, there's Group - a bunch of guys sit around talking about...stuff. You know. But they have classes and crafts."  
  
Face looked at him, quizzically.  
  
"Yeah. Some of it's kinda lame - like teaching us how to meditate. Supposed to help a guy relax, but I always get bored before I can relax. But they have painting. I like that one. Lets you get out the emotions without a lot of yakking, y'know? I painted one once, all in shades of red, with these huge flames - " Hannibal cleared his throat, frowning. "Uh, well, I mean, it depends on how you're feeling, what you paint, I mean. It's just a way to do it without...messing up."  
  
"What happens if you 'mess up'?" Murdock could swear there was a little tremor in the voice.  
  
Murdock didn't need to see Hannibal's warning look this time. "Usually they just take away a privilege, like you can't see the movie that week. Something like that."  
  
"They show movies?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Every Wednesday. Usually, they're kinda old, but not like really old."  
  
"What if you really mess up? Like...attack one of the orderlies?"  
  
Murdock swallowed, remembering the orderly he'd slugged, but smiled softly at him, remembering also what Face had done. What was a little white lie? "Nobody needs to there, Face. The orderlies are nice. They actually like the patients - well, unless the guy's a real dickhead." There, his conscience was clear now.  
  
"They don't..." The voice faded away and Murdock sighed. Not quite ready to ask it out loud yet, but that was okay.  
  
"The orderlies are nice, like I said, Face. They'll stop and talk to you, ask how you're doing, sit with you if you're not doing too well. And the nurses are like that, too. Sure, they have their bad days, but they never, ever take it out on the patients. I've never seen that, no matter what I...no matter what happens."  
  
Face sat quietly; Murdock could almost see the wheels turning in his head. There was one question he hadn't asked yet. The hardest one. Hannibal looked at Murdock, and it was his turn to frown.  
  
Patience, Hannibal. This isn't over yet.  
  
"What about...the other patients? Do they...are they..."  
  
"It's safe there, Face. They don't let anybody hurt anyone else. I've never felt safer in my life." Another white lie, but that wasn't the point. Face wanted to know Murdock wasn't treated like Face had been, and Murdock would say anything to reassure him.  
  
Face looked at him again, this time...Murdock wasn't sure what that look meant. Almost...eager.  
  
"What about your doctor? Do you like him?"  
  
Murdock didn't hesitate. "Very much, Face. He's great. I mean, I don't always like the questions he asks, but that's just because...well, I have to talk about stuff I don't want to, to get better."  
  
"You have to?"  
  
"Eventually. It's hard, but...easier than being crazy, y'know? In the long run."  
  
"What if you're not...ready to?"  
  
Murdock shrugged. "Then you're not ready to. He seems to know the difference between not ready and not willing. Knows when to push, when to step back." Murdock smiled. "He's good. You'd like him."  
  
More long minutes of silence as Face digested the info. He sighed deeply, looking first, and long, at Murdock, then turning to Hannibal. That bit of tremor was back in his voice.  
  
"I want to go with Murdock."_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**October 15 1976 - 8 Days**

"I want to go with Murdock."

He hated the shake in his voice; he felt like his whole body - hell, his whole being - was shaking. But what choice did he really have?

Once he'd gotten his wits back - as much as he could, anyway - he'd started thinking about things. Realizing a few things. Like how he hated Hannibal but felt safe with him. He didn't trust BA but was...scared when he'd left the van. Murdock - Murdock he just wasn't sure about at all. He was part of it but wasn't. And he was the only one Face really believed when he'd said he was sorry.

He didn't like it. He needed to get that hatred back, that distrust. The only things that had kept him going. He'd fed on them, like a rat at carrion, for so long. It was the only way he'd survived. The only thing that kept him going. What else was there?

But now...it was all fucked up. He was all fucked up.

Worse than he'd thought.

And then Hannibal had told him about Murdock, what had happened, where he lived...

Murdock liked it there.

He felt safe there.

Safe.

How long had it been since Face had felt safe? Anywhere? Until now. Until Hannibal...

But he knew that wouldn't last. Couldn't. Too many...complications. On his part. On theirs. He knew what BA was thinking. Knew it every time he looked away from Face, every time he glared at Hannibal.

And Hannibal. Face didn't kid himself about Hannibal. Thinking the same thing as BA, only trying to pretend he didn't. Pretending because that's what commanding officers were supposed to do. Pretending because he knew it was his fault.

And when Face thought that, he knew. Knew, without doubt, he couldn't stay with them. Knowing what they were thinking, what he was thinking...No, he was too far gone now. Too many things had been let loose, things he could no longer keep hidden, no longer hide from. No longer control.

And that meant he couldn't go back to living the way he had been, either. No. He couldn't even trust himself anymore. Absently, he reached toward his throat, stopping himself before Hannibal noticed.

He couldn't stay with Hannibal and he couldn't be on his own. He had no choice now. He had to have help. Help Cleary had tried to give him, but Face hadn't been ready for it back then. He didn't know if he was ready now, but Murdock's VA was the only option he had.

He couldn't use Kyle's name anymore. And he couldn't use his own name. The authorities would know from his fingerprints who he was, would adjust those assault charges accordingly. He would have to come up with a new name, a new identity. Then there were his military records, medical records...he could get those from Cleary; he'd have to go through them, changing the name, some of the circumstances to fit the new 'him'...

He wasn't sure he could do that. No. He knew he couldn't. Not now. His head wasn't on straight enough for that. And going through those files, having it all thrown in his face again...no. He couldn't do that now.

Dammit! So many things he couldn't...

But Hannibal could. Face would have to convince him, make him realize the plans he'd made wouldn't work. That he had to do this.

Hannibal owed him.

He fought aside the tremors, the sudden fear that made him want to bolt from the van. He looked Hannibal in the eye and said it again. To convince Hannibal. To convince himself.

"I want to go with Murdock."

*****

He should have seen it coming. Should've paid more attention to the questions, the way he asked those questions. Should've realized there was something more than just concern for Murdock.

He looked at BA, who had straightened suddenly, arms down at his sides, eyes fixed on Hannibal. The look on his face would've been laughable under other circumstances. Shock. Pure shock.

Hannibal looked at Murdock. He was practically gloating.

Damn.

He sighed, looking at Face now, who was staring at the floor. Waiting. For what? Approval? No. Support? Possibly. Or wanting someone to talk him out of it? What did he want Hannibal to say?

It was impossible, of course. Didn't he realize that? Kyle Hanson was a dead man. And those felony charges in Georgia...the least of his problems. The Army...

Hannibal closed his eyes. Oh, shit. What exactly did Face know about that? Hannibal had never had a chance to talk to him about those news reports, what they'd said...hadn't said. Shit.

He opened his eyes to find Face was now looking at him. How to explain this?

"I want to go with Murdock."

The voice was stronger this time. More resolved. Hannibal didn't miss that. Couldn't miss it. Any more than he could miss that look in his eyes. Hadn't seen it in years, but he knew it. Knew it well.

But it didn't make sense. Face had resisted any therapy, fought every attempt to lock him up, to help him get his head on straight. Yeah, he'd gotten a pile of shit thrown at him the last few days, but...was he finally realizing he needed help? Or was he just seeing this as another way of hiding? Was he that desperate?

Hannibal looked once more at Murdock, whose wide, confident grin had faded to a smile. A shaky, uncertain smile. Hannibal took a long breath. He was going to have move very carefully now.

"Face, it's not that simple."

"I know. I know. We have to make up a new ID, change the records. It'll take some time. I haven't done anything like that for...and I...I don't know if I can...I mean - "

"Face, listen to me!" Hannibal hadn't meant to startle him, but he recognized that tone of voice, the increasing tempo of words - he'd been around Murdock often enough to know what it meant. "Face, you can't go with Murdock. You just...can't."

*****

"I want to go with Murdock."

Murdock's mouth fell open as Face looked at Hannibal. For a moment, and only for a moment, he thought no, you can't. And then - yes!

Richter was a good doctor. Really good. If anyone could help Face, he could. And with Murdock there as Face's backup, they'd get him back to normal in no time. Well, maybe it would take a little time, but...Murdock could show Face the ropes, make sure he knew someone was watching his back - man, Murdock wouldn't let anyone near Face, not like that. No way. Face could relax, feel safe, start opening up.

And Murdock wouldn't have to spend so much time alone. He'd have a friend now. Yeah, he and Face would really, really get to be friends, no more pretending they were, or just tolerating each other. They'd get to be best buddies.

It would be great...

But it wouldn't be easy. Of course not. Murdock knew that; so did Face. Face may be crazy but he wasn't dumb. They'd have to make up all kinds of shit - but hell, that's okay. Blame any gaps on the Army bureaucracy. And that doc back East would help. Hannibal said Cleary had wanted to do this very thing. Yeah, we can do it. We can, Hannibal. And then I can...I can make it up to him, Hannibal. For all of us. He looked over at Hannibal, who was looking dubiously at Face.

Murdock opened his mouth, closing it almost as quickly as Hannibal suddenly paled, closing his eyes. Face was looking up at the colonel now, and Murdock could see the abrupt straightening of his shoulders.

"I want to go with Murdock."

Oh, yeah. Face was with it now. He knew what he had to do. Knew Murdock would help him. They all would. They'd get him set up here and Hannibal and BA would come by and visit and give him support, just like they had Murdock, and get all stern when he was getting off-track, just like they did with Murdock, and then...and then Hannibal looked at Murdock, and the confidence he'd felt started slipping.

Say something, Hannibal. Tell him how we can fix it. You know how. You can fix it for him. Tell him, Hannibal.

Tell him.

"Face, it's not that simple."

No, Hannibal, no, don't start telling him we can't. We can! You know we can - we just have to take a little more time, set it up right. See, listen to Face, he knows, he knows...

"Face, listen to me!"

Murdock's eyes jerked toward the front, staring past the seats, through the windshield, seeing nothing. He ignored the startled glance Face shot at him, the glare from BA. Hannibal didn't get it. He's ready, dammit! He's ready and - 

"Face, you can't go with Murdock. You just...can't."

Hannibal was going to ruin everything. Everything! Face didn't need to know about the Army thing. Not now, anyway. They were gonna give him a new ID, change that file...

Murdock glanced back at Hannibal. Shit. He was practically sitting on Murdock's duffle bag. On that file. Right now he was too busy talking to Face. Yeah, Face, ignore him. You stick to your guns. You and me, buddy. You and me.

He looked over at BA. Glaring at Face. Sure, BA, sure. Like this is all Face's fault. We're supposed to help him, remember? We're supposed to! That's what we do. 'Cause we're a team.

His attention switched back to Hannibal, who was shifting around. He was losing patience with Face, Murdock could tell. He was getting that set to his jaw like he did when Murdock went off on a tangent. He's going to blow it. Face knows what he wants, Hannibal. He knows. Let him do it. Help him, dammit.

He paled when he heard the little crunch. Hannibal had moved again, trying to get Face to look at him. Had he heard it, too? That little crackle of paper? No. He was still talking, trying to talk over Face. Won't work, Hannibal. Face had his own reality and it ain't yours. Don't destroy it. Can't. He won't let you.

Yeah, forget the fucking Army, man. We'll get you in there. If Hannibal won't help you, I will. I know all the ins and outs. And I'm the one with that file. Not Hannibal. I can help you doctor it, Face. You don't even have to read it. Don't have to go there. Uh-uh. Never have to go there until you're ready, Face. You're taking the first step - that's a big step, man! Why can't Hannibal see that?

Hannibal shifted yet again, this time shoving the duffle impatiently further back. Murdock turned back, watching as BA stepped away from the van - the coward; he stared out the front, at the seats, the steering wheel, anyplace now. Just don't look at the duffle, don't look at it. Ignore it. Nothing in there but comics. That's all. Just comics. God, if Hannibal saw that now...no way he'd let Face go with Murdock. That would be the last straw. Can't trust Murdock, no way, look how he stole that file. But I can be trusted, Hannibal. If you'd trusted me to begin with, I wouldn't have had to steal that. And I can deal with Face, I can. I can help him.

We could help each other...

*****

"I want to go with Murdock."

BA straightened right up then, staring in disbelief. What the hell... Just from the look on Hannibal's face, he couldn't believe it either. Of all the...

Hannibal wasn't saying anything. Nobody was. Damn fool Murdock just sat there, grinning. What - he didn't think Hannibal would actually...

BA leaned back, bracing himself against the doorframe. Could it work? It'd solve a hell of a lot of problems, for sure. That doc at Mobile, he'd offered to set the whole thing up already.

Sure as hell would make things easier. No more worrying about the LT taking off, or fighting, or dealing with all that... other stuff. BA knew Hannibal would want Face to get that out in the open; that's what all these shrinks wanted, for people to talk about the bad stuff. Talk and talk, thinking that'd make it all go away. No way he was gonna listen to all that shit. He swallowed, glancing again at Face.

He just couldn't listen to that.

Yeah, better for everybody if the LT got into the VA. Hell, it'd probably be good for Murdock, too. And then Hannibal and BA could get back to... well, whatever they wanted to. Easier to disappear if it was just the two of 'em. Hell, maybe they could set up new IDs of their own. Start all over.

Forget all this ever happened...

"I want to go with Murdock."

BA looked immediately from Hannibal to Face. He knew that tone, from way back. And it just meant more trouble. Always had. Wiley's face flashed through his head. The way he'd look at BA when the LT would use that tone with Hannibal. Wondering who would win this time...

BA turned back to Hannibal, followed his gaze over to Murdock. Pretty clear what Murdock wanted. One time he and Murdock were on the same wavelength. Different reasons, maybe, but they both wanted Face in that hospital. Wanted him in there bad.

BA frowned. Maybe he was as big a fool as Murdock.

"Face, it's not that simple."

No, sure as hell ain't that simple. Much as BA would like to think Hannibal could come up with a plan, much as he'd like to drive off and let those doctors deal with the LT and all his shit... He wasn't that dumb.

"Face, listen to me!"

Even BA flinched. Sure brought the LT up short. Needed that. All of 'em, maybe. Wake us all up. He looked at Murdock again. What was going on his mind now? Damn fool looked scared...why'd he be scared? BA straightened, stepped back, carefully, moving slowly away from the van. Just a few steps. Close enough to move in if he needed to, far enough so he didn't have to hear the LT and Hannibal arguing.

He glanced around, checking up and down the dark street. This time of the night - well, morning - wasn't any traffic here, just a car or truck now and then down the other side streets. So far they hadn't attracted any attention, and BA knew they'd been lucky. He should've been on watch, instead of... Yeah. They'd been lucky.

Hannibal would have to tell Face about the robbery now, about how they'd been set up for sure. They'd talked and talked about it, there at Bragg, trying to figure out who would've done it, and why. Never did come up with any answers that made sense. That wasn't going to set too well with the LT. BA remembered too well how stubborn he could be about the details, how he'd always demanded to know the 'why' of everything.

Nope, he wasn't going to be happy when Hannibal couldn't give him those answers. Just feed that damn paranoia shit. BA remembered too well what Murdock had been like with that.

He glanced over at the van. The voices were getting louder. Not shouting, but not talking real calm either. He started to move toward the van, just in case, when he saw the squad car drive by, down on the next block. He stepped back, moving into the shadow of the tree beside the street. Not a minute later, the cruiser was back, more slowly, going the other way.

BA moved quickly to the van's driver side.

He hoped to hell Hannibal had made his point, 'cause their time here was over.


	3. Chapter 3

**October 15 1976 - 8 Days**

Murdock stood by the corner of the building, staring at the white stucco as he picked it off. Slowly inserting a thumbnail, then a quick angry jerk, watching the tiny bits fly off into the bushes. From time to time he glanced up at the big double doors leading into his building. He needed to go in, face the music, but he wasn't ready. Not yet.

The guys had dropped him off a few blocks away. Hannibal had damn near glared a hole right through him as he told him to go straight to the VA. No "funny business". Murdock knew Hannibal hadn't forgotten - or forgiven - that little bit of rebellion back in Alabama. He'd almost said something, something nasty, but a growl from BA, along with a nod toward the back of the van, and Murdock had kept still. Just nodded and headed away from the van, not looking back as he heard it drive away, only glancing around to make sure there was nobody watching.

As if the Army would know he was suddenly going to appear right here, right now...

He flipped another bit of stucco, not even watching it this time. Didn't matter, any more than what Richter would say when he suddenly appeared right here, right now. Well, that wasn't true. He needed Richter. Needed him on his side, now more than ever.

He straightened, looking again at the double doors. He adjusted the duffle on his shoulder, hearing the crinkle of papers inside.

Yeah, he was going to need Richter.

He sighed and headed for the doors. It was late. Real late. Another hour and the sun would start peeking over the buildings. He wasn't even sure the night shift would know who he was. It had been almost three weeks after all, and the night shift was notorious for its turnover. Which really didn't make sense - all they had to do was walk the floor every hour and make sure nobody hung themselves that night.

He pulled at the door handle, knowing full well it would still be locked. He liked to cover all bases just the same. If he could've sneaked into his room and just shown up for breakfast, acting like he'd been there all along... hell, he could claim he'd never been gone. And when they said otherwise, he'd just look confused. Maybe get angry. No. Not angry. Better to look confused and lost... maybe get a little teary-eyed. He'd seen that work more than once. But could he just produce tears at the drop of a hat? He could use that method acting that Hannibal was always talking about. Yeah, think of something really sad... He stared out toward the street.

That wouldn't be hard to do.

Didn't matter anyway. The doors were locked. No sneaking in. So now what? Ring the bell and wait, see if they let him in?

What if they wouldn't? What if he'd been gone too long? What if they'd given his room away?

Shit! What if they'd given all his stuff away? He didn't care about the clothes; he'd taken his jacket and cap already. And most of the other stuff was just junk he'd picked up here and there at the VA's canteen. But he didn't want to lose his photos. He could get more of Hannibal and BA, but Wiley... well, he wasn't sure he wanted those. He wasn't even sure if he still had them. He might have torn them up. And he only had the one of Face. No, he could get more of him now, too. So that was okay. Maybe. But all the stuff O'Malley had brought him...

"Murdock?"

He looked up, staring at the face on the other side of the glass door. What was his name? Hayes? Hawkins? Honeywell! That was it. Honeywell. Murdock always gave him a hard time about being a millionaire in disguise. He hated that. Which was why Murdock did it, of course.

For just a moment they continued to look at each other through the glass, Honeywell's mouth hanging open like he was staring at a ghost. Murdock frowned.

"Well, you gonna stand there all day or you gonna let me in?"

Yeah, that did the trick. Honeywell unlocked that door faster than a scalded cat and took Murdock by the arm, firmly but gently, as they say. Like Murdock was gonna take off running. Hello, Honeywell! I came to you guys, remember?

Murdock started to turn down the corridor toward his old room, but Honeywell pulled him past the corner and down toward the locked ward.

Not good.

"Hey, man, why we going down here? I just want to go to bed!"

Honeywell just shook his head. Yeah, Murdock knew the drill. Been a long time since he'd tried to run off, but he remembered. It might be a long time before he saw his room again.

But thinking about last night, it would probably be a long time before he left it again...

*****

Murdock glanced at his watch, frowning. Hours, he'd thought, but his watch said no. He would like some breakfast, but his watch said it was still too early. He wasn't sure if he believed it or not. That watch was typically a liar. At least in here. Didn't matter; until whichever shrink was on duty cleared him to stay, the government wasn't going to hand out any free breakfast anyway.

Honeywell had, thankfully, not tried to take away his duffle. Just put him in the isolation room and told him to wait. At first, he'd just sat on the couch, the only piece of furniture in the room, and stared at the window. High up on the wall and covered in thick plastic grating, it at least allowed him to watch as the first signs of daylight appeared.

After a while, he'd started pacing. He wished that doctor would get here. He wanted to get back to his room, get that file out. He was tempted to pull it out now but didn't dare. He glanced at the door, saw one of the nurses peering in. She smiled at him and left. He didn't recognize her, and that smile confirmed she was new. Most of the staff was nice but wary. Murdock didn't exactly have a stellar reputation here.

Almost four and half years he'd been in here. And he hadn't had a fight for over two. So okay, he'd played a few games with the staff since then. But he hadn't gotten lockdown for...

He jumped as there was a sudden knock and the door swung open. Shit. Peterson. Murdock had never seen eye-to-eye with this guy. Why the hell hadn't he waited until Richter came on duty? Peterson was one of those docs who thought if you had all four limbs you just needed a good kick in the butt to get straightened out.

Peterson let the door slowly swish to a close, looking at Murdock with that same sneer he always had. Richter said Murdock was just projecting, that Peterson was a good doctor.

Murdock knew better.

"Well, Captain. The prodigal son returns."

Murdock wanted to make a smart-ass comeback but held it in. Peterson, for better or worse, was the doc on duty and that gave him the power. If he said Murdock couldn't come back, Murdock didn't come back. So he kept quiet, concentrated on his 'cover story'. Looking at Peterson, he put on a confused frown.

"I don't know what the big deal is, Doc. I know I'm not supposed to take off, but I wasn't that late getting back. At least, I didn't think I was. Not until I got back and the door was locked."

For a long moment, Peterson just stared him. Good. Caught him off-guard.

"Captain, how long were you gone?"

Murdock slumped back against the couch. More confusion. Lots more.

"I musta fell asleep, Doc. I walked for a long time and... I woke up and it was dark."

He'd missed something. Peterson wasn't buying it.

"Captain, you did not go for a walk. You took off in a van. And it wasn't a matter of hours - you were gone for nearly three weeks. So you want to try this again?"

Damn. That's what he'd forgotten. The van. He'd messed that up. Was supposed to just walk up to the van, casual-like, not draw attention. But he'd gotten too wound up for that. Hannibal had glared, but then they had to take off and the Jazz had hit and... Well, okay. He couldn't claim to just have walked away. So Plan B.

"I couldn't help it, Doc. I was just walking along, minding my own business, and I saw that van sitting there, engine running, door open - it was like, like it was calling out to me. I tried to turn away, but it kept calling and calling... and I hadn't been out of here for so long... and next thing I know, I'm in the van, yelling at the driver to go! And I guess it scared the hell out of him, y'know? A crazy man jumping in like that, screaming at him... who wouldn't? So he took off, with me in the back, still screaming..."

Murdock fell to his side, the picture of dejection. Peterson was staring, open-mouthed.

"I don't know what came over me, Doc. And I'm so... so ashamed." He pushed himself upright and put his head in his hands. "I made him drive for miles. Every time he tried to talk, I started screaming again. I don't even know where I wanted to go - I just wanted to go someplace!" He looked up dejectedly at Peterson, who was now scribbling notes.

Gotcha. Go easy now. Don't lose him again.

"We drove for a long time, and I started thinking about what I'd done. How wrong it was. And I felt bad for the guy, real bad, Doc. So when we stopped at a light, I jumped out and ran. I knew I had to come back here, but I didn't know where I was. And I started walking and walking and walking and walking and - "

"Okay, Murdock, okay. You got lost. But for three weeks?"

"I didn't know it was that long, honest to gosh, Doc! Pretty soon it got dark, and I found a place to sleep, in some park, and... and I kept waking up in some different park, and then I woke up and just... just knew where I was and where the VA was and... and I came... home." He made that last word as pathetic-sounding as he dared. Peterson was workable, but still a skeptic.

Peterson had stopped taking notes now, watching Murdock. Murdock, in turn, stared helplessly at him before flopping back on his side, bringing his knees up close to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Doc. I'm so sorry, so sorry, sorry, sorry..."

*****

Murdock watched through the window as he munched his toast, the rest of his breakfast on the tray in front of him. New room, new view. That's all it would be for a while, until Richter decided he could be trusted again. All things considered, Murdock figured he'd gotten off easy.

They still hadn't brought his things out of storage, but he'd been assured nothing had been thrown away, so that was okay. He didn't need any of it right away anyhow. His fingers wandered over the duffle, sitting on the bed beside him. He wanted to read it but right now, he wasn't sure he had the energy. Now that he was home, safe, he wanted nothing more than to forget about all that. For a while. Just a while.

He pushed the tray to one side and slid the duffle under the bed. He'd look at that later. He wanted to talk to Richter about Face, and he didn't want to waste any time doing it.

Especially now, after the way things had gone last night... God, last night...

*****

"Face, you can't go with Murdock. You just...can't."

Face pushed away, his back now against the side of the van. Hannibal could see the puzzlement clearly - but was there a split-second glint in his eyes as well?

"Why not?"

Hannibal hesitated. Not the time or the place to take him back there, not if he could help it.

"Well, for one thing, that felony charge is not going to just disappear. And I don't care how careful we are, somebody's going to figure out who you are."

Face looked him full in the eye now. Yeah, no mistaking the anger this time.

"You know damn well those charges aren't worth that much effort. They've probably already dropped the felony count. So tell me why I can't stay here. Not worth the effort - again?"

Hannibal felt himself wince. He should've known that wasn't done with. Not yet. But now he had no choice. If Face didn't have the full story about the robbery, how could Hannibal ever turn him around? He sighed. How was he supposed to give Face the full story when he himself didn't know it?

"Okay, Face. There is more to it. I know you saw some of the news reports. The Army's been after us for a long, long time."

"You broke out of Fort Bragg."

"Yes, we did."

"You were mercenaries."

Face almost spit the words out, and Hannibal could feel the heat rising to his face. He shifted uncomfortably, shoving a duffle out of the way.

"Yes, we were. For a while. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but we were at the end of our rope. We'd been living off friends and other vets for too long. We got to the point we didn't know who we could trust and didn't want to get those we could into legal trouble. So yeah, we did that. And got out of it as quick as we could. Found jobs that gave us some... flexibility. And stayed in hiding."

"So what's that got to do with me?"

Hannibal stared at him, surprised. "Face, they're after all of us. The whole team. And that robbery is a hell of a lot bigger than a fist fight."

"The robbery?"

The look Face gave him was not one of curiosity. Not puzzlement, either. No, that earlier glint was now a definite glare of suspicion. Damn. Face definitely didn't know the whole story.

"Face, you remember when we got back into Laos and the radio wasn't there? That was only the start.

"It took us almost a week before we came in contact with any Americans. Ran into some big operation, but we got lucky and..." Hannibal faltered a bit. They'd gotten lucky; Face... He pushed that aside for later - and longer - discussion. "We got picked up by a chopper, taken back to Khe Sanh. I knew there was something wrong then because we were sent down to Nha Trang.

"It all went to hell then. We were picked up by a gang of MPS, shackled and hauled hell-bent for leather down to Cam Ranh Bay. That's where we found out we were being charged not only with the robbery, but with aiding and abetting the enemy, and being AWOL, just to top things off."

Murdock's head jerked up. "That was that damn Colonel Wrenn's doing. He put in that AWOL and - " Murdock stopped suddenly as Face stared at him, ashen.

"Wrenn? He - "

Hannibal inwardly shook his head. He'd hoped to gloss over Wrenn's involvement. Another thing that needed discussing, but at a later, more "stable" moment. Too late now, though he gave Murdock a warning glare.

"Yes, he was involved, but the whole thing came from a lot higher up. How far up, I still don't know. Anyway, they charged us and sent us first to Okinawa and then to Bragg. It wasn't until we got back to the States that our attorney told us what happened."

Hannibal took a deep breath, again wondering how much Face knew already. He didn't think it was much. Every word Hannibal uttered seemed to be hitting him like a brick.

"Dumb as it sounds, I kept thinking Morrison would be able to straighten it all out. I knew there must be something wrong, even wondered if he'd been arrested as well, but... I just knew it would get fixed. Then I met with our attorney. He told us Morrison had died in a shelling the night of the robbery."

A sound came from Murdock, almost a low moan. Hannibal frowned at him, but he'd pressed his head against the window of the van, eyes closed.

Face hadn't reacted at all. Just sat still, staring at the back of the seat. He was still pale, and Hannibal had to wonder if he had taken in anything after that mention of Wrenn. Hannibal straightened and plowed on.

"Captain Curtis died in the same attack as Morrison, so the only two officers that I knew were involved were gone. The lawyer said they couldn't locate my copy of the orders and I couldn't name names or bring in any other proof of being ordered to Hanoi - nothing. So we were fu... done for. And I knew what that meant."

Hannibal took a deep breath, trying not to think of the many weeks they'd been locked up at Bragg, going through that sham of a trial. He'd never in his life been down that low, and just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach.

"That's when Ray got involved. We knew we had one chance, and that was to break out and try to find some way of proving our innocence. Someone, somewhere, had to know the facts, could clear us. But we couldn't do anything locked up, and there were only two ways we would be getting out. We chose escape."

Face was looking down, hands clasped tightly together. Finally, he looked up, not at Hannibal or Murdock, but toward the front of the van. When he spoke, his voice was filled with loss and confusion.

"I thought... I thought you came back heroes."

*****

Wrenn.

Wrenn.

If what Hannibal said was true, if Morrison had died the night of the robbery... That's why there was no radio. Wrenn would have had access to all Morrison's records. Hell, he was next in the chain of command. He would have to have known about the robbery.

Had to.

It didn't matter. He would've found out after. He had plenty of time to change those orders, cancel the radio, the pickup. List the team as AWOL - that would just be the start.

Wrenn had set them up.

No.

Wrenn had set him up. The rest of the team would've just been the coup de grâce. Wrenn wouldn't have known about Face until after the team was back - and then it would've been too late, even if he'd wanted to save them. He'd already set things in motion.

Face could just see it. The original orders would've been lost. Then Wrenn would've sent some memos - questions, first. Colonel Smith was 'missing'. Had he been called back to headquarters? No? How strange. A couple of his men were missing as well. Wrenn would promise to investigate. Thoroughly.

That was all it would take to get the ball rolling. Done in a couple of hours. Then passing the word along about the flight to Udon. By that time the brass would know about the robbery. It wouldn't have taken a rocket scientist to put that flight, the missing men and the robbery into one stew. Not with Wrenn adding the spices.

Face listened with ever-increasing despair as Hannibal told about their imprisonment, the escape. The accusation in his voice when he'd brought up the mercenaries - damn. What choice had they had, really?

Because of him.

Because he'd screwed over Wrenn, and set the wheels in motion for that final betrayal.

All the months, the years in the jungle - the anger at Hannibal for leaving him. All the time thinking...

Shame rolled over him, and he was unable to look Hannibal in the eye.

"I thought... I thought you came back heroes."

*****

The van was almost suffocating in the silence. Hannibal didn't know what else to say, not after that.

Heroes? He should've considered that. Not that any of them had really expected a ticker-tape parade. It was their duty to complete the mission, just like any other mission. And that missing radio had given them all qualms. At the same time, it had been more important than anything else they'd done, and there had always been the expectation of... appreciation for its completion. Face would have carried that expectation with him. And Hannibal knew it would have grown over the weeks and months... and years. Added to the anger and resentment.

Shit. No wonder he'd wanted to kill Hannibal back there. And Hannibal couldn't blame him.

He took a deep breath. That didn't change anything now. Except that Hannibal had to make damn sure Face understood why they weren't going to get him into the VA. He had to know exactly why.

He shifted again, so he could look Face right in the eye, and spoke softly.

"Face, if I could be sure you would be safe from the military here, I would do everything and anything I could to get you in. But all it would take was one orderly, one nurse - hell, somebody's relative or buddy - to recognize you and it would be all over. The Army would be here quicker than scat and haul you off to Leavenworth. And that would be almost as bad as that shithole we pulled you out of.

"I - we - want you to get the help you need, Face. We all want you to be the man you were... before. I know things were never the way they should've been in Nam, between you and the others, and I take full responsibility for that. And I take the responsibility for the hell you've gone through these past years. I should've been able to do something, think of some way to... "

Hannibal stopped. There was no point in going into that now.

"I can't put you in the VA, Face, because I can't guarantee you'd be safe. And, by God, I am going to keep you safe from now on. You are never, ever going to go through that shit again."

Anything Face might have said was lost as BA slammed his way into the van.

"Gotta go, Hannibal. Cops."

Face stared straight ahead as they drove away, never saying a word.

Not even when they dropped Murdock off and tore off into the night.

*****

Murdock woke to a soft rosy glow outside his window. He didn't need his clock - which still hadn't been returned to him - to know the day was almost gone already. He sat up slowly, stretching carefully. A full supper tray still sat on the bureau by the bed, but he didn't care.

He was tired. He'd slept all day, but not a restful sleep, as he'd hoped. And wish as he might, he hadn't awakened with a sense of determination, the idea of really helping Face giving him purpose.

Instead, he was just tired. He looked around the room. Not his old room, but... he was home and he just wanted that to be enough.

But the memory of his dreams kept coming back, and he knew there was only one way to be rid of them. Not knowing the facts always made things worse. Imagination could be a double-edged sword, giving you hope or giving you nightmares. He needed to have the hope, to know he could help Hannibal, BA, and Face. He couldn't do that until he could enlist Richter's help. And there was only one way to be rid of the nightmares and help his team.

He reached under the bed and slid out his duffle. The file was a little worse for wear, but still intact. He sat back on the bed and looked at the sun sliding down over the top of the buildings.

Turning on his light, he began to read.


	4. Chapter 4

**October 15 1976 - 8 Days**

The first thing Murdock found in the file was the intake report from the Army hospital in Mobile. A lot of notations had a later date written beside them, which puzzled Murdock at first. Then, reading Cleary's notes further down, he understood. Kyle - Face - had been "unresponsive". They would've gotten his personal information later, from his Army personnel file. Needless to say, Cleary's initial diagnosis included everything in the book. There were repeated notations that it was "preliminary" and subject to change after "further examinations".

Murdock had smiled wryly at that. Anyone who knew Face would've said that about the man himself. He sobered, suddenly ashamed. There really wasn't anything funny about that.

He turned to the next set of forms, frowning. A lot of medical terms. Why couldn't they just speak English? He rested the papers on his lap, staring at the lamp. Maybe he didn't need to read this part. He probably wouldn't know what half of it really meant anyway. And it wouldn't have anything to do with...

He sighed, shaking his head. It had everything to do with his mental state. And that meant Murdock had to read it. If he really wanted to help. So no shirking. No backing out when it got... bad. He had to read it all, remember it all. Hannibal could realize the file was gone any minute. And he'd know who had it, and come and get it. Murdock had to read it and remember it before that happened.

He sat up straighter on the bed and began reading.

**October 16 1976 - 9 Days**

BA had driven south to San Ysidro. They'd gotten yet another motel room, on the edge of town; Hannibal said they'd look for more permanent digs today. BA didn't like it much but had agreed, finally, with Hannibal's reasoning. LA would be too hot for them in another day or so. And if the military did track them down here, it was an easy hop over the border into Mexico. BA had huffed a bit at that. Like they could spend hours waiting to get through the border crossing. Hannibal had just grinned. Sure. BA would have to look for a new vehicle now, as well. One that could go cross-country.

What he really didn't like was Hannibal telling Murdock they'd be staying in LA. Again, he knew why, but still. It was one thing to lie to strangers so you could get a job, or make up things so the neighbors wouldn't get suspicious. But lying to Murdock? Hannibal wouldn't have had to tell him anything. Then, even if the military did come around, Murdock could honestly say he didn't know where they were. But this... this was using Murdock to decoy the MPs away from them. Without Murdock knowing.

And that meant Hannibal thought Murdock would give them away.

*****

Richter knocked, waited. It was only a courtesy, of course; he could've just walked in. But he and Murdock had developed a mutual respect that required such courtesies. Now, however, he frowned when the usual "Entré!" didn't come from the other side. He looked through the window. Murdock was sitting on the bed, facing away from the door. No way he hadn't heard the knock.

Richter opened the door quietly and stepped over to the bed. Murdock never moved, never looked around, didn't say a word.

"Murdock?"

"Yeah."

Richter pursed his lips, frowning deeper. He'd checked on Murdock several times yesterday but hadn't disturbed his sleep. Maybe he should have. Something was obviously very wrong.

He pulled up a chair and sat by the end of the bed, getting his first good look at Murdock. He wasn't at all happy with what he saw. Rather than looking refreshed, or even rested, he looked like he hadn't slept in months. His skin was pale, eyes red-rimmed. And dull. Murdock's eyes were never dull.

Richter glanced at Peterson's notes outlining Murdock's story of his disappearance. For someone so cynical, Peterson had fallen for that hook, line, and sinker. Obviously, something serious had happened during those three weeks. Something that had caused a major problem for his patient.

And the sooner Richter got to the bottom of it, the better for all concerned.

*****

There had been no discussion - just a look from BA - and Hannibal decided all three of them would go look for housing. He knew full well who would actually make the decision. BA would look at everything from a defensive position, and check escape routes. That would be the extent of his interest. Face, of course, couldn't care less where they lived, or even what town it was in. Whatever Hannibal decided, Face was going along with. Ever since LA. Ever since he found out...

So Hannibal had to make the final decision, and he was looking for a lot more than defenses. He knew, for one thing, it had to be someplace they'd be comfortable in for a long time. Unless the military interfered, he didn't want to be moving around. Face needed stability, not tearing around from one place to another. And quite frankly, he and BA could stand some of that as well.

The other thing he knew was essential was privacy. Which would make it not only more difficult to find, but more expensive. Finances were not a worry yet - but that brought up another consideration. Within two, maybe three months, he and BA would have to come up with employment of some sort. And it would have to be something close to their new quarters, just in case.

Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment. He thought he'd considered all the problems, all the complications, and had accepted the challenge. Now, with all of it suddenly staring him in the face, no longer something to deal with in the future, he began to have doubts.

Big doubts.

*****

Richter waited a few minutes, re-reading Peterson's notes, giving Murdock a chance to open up first. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. Today he didn't.

"I have Dr Peterson's report from the other night. That was a quite an... adventure you had."

Nothing.

"I know there's more to this disappearance than you've said, Murdock. And I don't believe for one moment that you hijacked that van. Or that you've been wandering around LA for the last three weeks." He leaned forward, softened his voice. "I thought you trusted me, Murdock. I can understand... skirting the truth with Dr Peterson; I know you don't like him. But you need to tell me what really happened."

Murdock shifted and raised his head enough to stare out the window. For several moments he sat, still as stone. Then - a deep breath, a nod.

Richter allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He had hoped for this reaction but hadn't been sure. With Murdock you could never be sure. Now if he could just keep it going.

"Let's start from the beginning. What made you want to leave?"

*****

Hannibal was staring at the house, heedless of BA's fingers drumming on the steering wheel or Face's occasional shifting around in the back. He and BA had perused the city and area maps last night, choosing the areas that were isolated and yet offered adequate escape routes. Hannibal had also checked the locations of hospitals, police stations...

He sighed. The real estate agent had given them three houses to look at, the only ones available in the area he and BA had finally settled on. None were ideal, but this one came the closest and Hannibal had signed the lease with somewhat hesitant relief. An older house set back from the street and nearly hidden from the nearest neighbors. Only two bedrooms, but they could work around that. According to the agent, there was a Forest Department access road behind the property. Two freeways within ten minutes. And the Mexican border a stone's throw away.

Still too many close neighbors. And while having nothing but wilderness behind the property was good security-wise, it also offered Face a damn handy place to disappear. Then again, he knew Face could disappear as easily in the city as he could here. They just wouldn't give him the opportunity. Or, hopefully, the wish to.

He fingered the house key, then turned to the others, putting on his most optimistic grin.

"Welcome home, guys."

*****

Murdock tried to concentrate. He'd been thinking of how to tell the doc about Face, had a story all ready for him... where the hell was it? Lost in that... no. No, don't think about that now. Not now. Later. Later when Richter was ready. Primed. Not now. Get those pictures out of your head. Out. Out. Out.

Why had he ever read that file? Why? He should've listened to Hannibal. Hannibal always knew what was right. What they should know, what they needed to know, what they didn't. He never questioned him in Nam. Why now? He should've listened.

Should've done a lot of things.

No, no, get back to the story. The story. He'd taken off to help a friend. Yeah. Help a friend. Years too late, but what the hell, right? Not like it mattered. Not that any damage had been done. No. No damage. No problem.

No Harry.

He closed his eyes. Tight. Real tight. So tight that little colored lights danced across his eyelids. Yeah. Little colored lights. Watch them. Concentrate on them. Nothing else. Nothing else. Don't see Face. Don't see him. Don't see what they did to him. Lights. Colors. Nothing else. Nothing else.

He should've listened to Hannibal. He should've.

He should've.

*****

Moving in had taken all of ten minutes. All they had were their sleeping bags and duffels. Hannibal just grinned when BA grumbled about the lack of furniture. They'd pick up some second-hand stuff over the next few days. Be a good way to get a lay of the land without being conspicuous, and get them all out of the house, too. He wasn't ignoring the tensions that built up, stuck in those motel rooms, the van...

He watched, surprised, as Face suddenly started moving around the house. After dumping the sleeping bags in the living room, Face had waited with the same detachment he'd shown since LA. But, Hannibal had noted, fidgetting more and more.

Face was more thorough than BA. Opened and shut every window, every door. Knew which window got stuck halfway, which door didn't lock properly, which one squeaked. Probably knew exactly how many steps between each one, too. Then Face headed upstairs. Hannibal had already checked it out and figured he knew which bedroom Face would want. He gave him a few minutes, then followed.

He came up the staircase to the upper hall and took a short left. The smaller of the two bedrooms, at the back. Hannibal knew Face had already double-checked the window facing the distant mountains at the back of the house. He himself had already checked that. About a twelve-foot drop to the ground below. Difficult, but doable. Not an exit Face would use unless he was forced to.

Face was looking at him. No expression on his face; just looking.

"You want this one, Face?"

Hannibal didn't miss the glance at the high ceiling, nor at the doorway Hannibal was blocking. He stepped back, making a show of looking around as if inspecting the hall.

"If that's okay."

The first thing he'd said since LA. But it would do. Hannibal nodded.

"No problem."

He headed back downstairs, knowing Face would check the upstairs just as carefully as he had the rest of the house. At least that much was predictable. Like the bedroom. The driveway was long enough, the front yard open enough that there would be ample warning of a frontal assault. Face would want to keep an eye on the rear. Yeah, that much was predictable.

Face had been quiet; not unusual, but after all the revelations yesterday, it made Hannibal nervous. Give them another day to settle in, then Hannibal would have to sit down and make sure Face had the whole story. From the day he was... left. Hannibal deliberately pushed away those thoughts, but it reminded him there was one more thing he had to get from the van. He'd already found a hiding place where it would be safe. He smiled mirthlessly. If Face knew he had it, no place would be safe.

He pulled the box of cigars out from under the seat, laying it, along with his jacket, on the front seat. He didn't glance back at the house; he knew Face would be watching from the upstairs window. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out the file, hiding it with his body. He pushed it in between the folds of his jacket, then checked the glove box to make sure nothing had been left. Saw the scrap of newspaper, caught on a screw.

He pulled out the file and opened it.

*****

"Murdock?"

He looked up, blinking. Question. Answer the question.

"I... I went to help a friend."

There. That wasn't so hard. It was the truth. Stick to the truth as much as possible. Easy. Piece of cake.

"Who?"

Name. Name - think of a name, Murdock! Damn. An easy one. One you'd remember. But one he can't check up on.

Think of a goddamn name, Murdock!

"A buddy of mine from Nam. Phil. Phil... Johnson."

Oh, that's a great name, Murdock, you idiot. Like he's not going to see through that one.

"You and he were close?"

"Well, yeah!" Murdock didn't bother holding back the frustration. "Why the hell else would I take off like that?"

"Okay." Richter's voice was calm. Richter was always calm. "He contacted you, asking for help?"

"No. I, uh... I found out he was in trouble. Through mutual friends."

"I see." Richter sat back in his chair, tilting his head as he regarded Murdock. "One of those mutual friends your uncle? Because I couldn't reach him all the time you were gone."

Shit shit shit. Of course they would've tried to get hold of Hannibal. Damn, he'd screwed up on this whole thing.

Okay, the truth. Remember the truth.

"Yeah. Yeah, my uncle knows him. And when I said I had to go help, my uncle helped me."

"Why didn't you come to me, Murdock?"

For the first time, Murdock turned and looked at the doctor, glaring cynically. "Why? Would you have let me go? Given me a free pass for who knew how long?"

"No, I wouldn't have. But I would have tried to help you, and your friend."

There it was. There was the opening. He'd walked right into it and Murdock hadn't even had to ask. He stared at Richter. Just say it, Murdock. Tell him about Face. Tell him the horrors. Make him see those horrible despicable pictures that squirm in your head like a bunch of fucking maggots.

Say it. Say it, Murdock. You have to, to help Face. Call Richter's bluff and make him help you. Make him help you both.

He opened his mouth, the words sticking in his throat.

It's the only way to get rid of those pictures. Those maggots. Take that step. Take it, Murdock.

"Then help us now."


	5. Chapter 5

**October 16 1976 - 9 Days**

BA walked into the living room, surprised to find Hannibal glaring out the front window. Just a few minutes before he'd seen him heading out to the van, calm as could be. And Face had been watching out his window the whole time BA had been checking the backyard. Whatever was bothering Hannibal hadn't come from that direction.

Hannibal turned just then, the glare replaced not quite soon enough by that confident grin.

"I think this house is going to work out fine, BA - as soon as we get some furniture anyway."

"You think so, huh?" BA held Hannibal's gaze just a moment longer than necessary. He'd play along, for now, but Hannibal would know he wasn't totally blind.

"Yeah, BA. I think so. And the sooner we get that little detail taken care of, the better. I thought I saw a second-hand store on the way here. That'll be a good place to start."

"What - now?"

Hannibal frowned, and BA shrugged before moving past him to the front door. Sometimes he forgot Hannibal thought they were still in the Army. Man did not like his decisions being questioned, even now.

At least not by BA.

He shook his head at that. Still resentful of Face, after all this time, all that had happened? That wasn't good. Wasn't the LT's fault. He knew that.

He knew that...

He'd waited in the van, drumming his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. He didn't think it was a good idea, dragging Face into town so soon. Hell, even he wasn't feeling settled yet. But then the two of them came out of the house and Face looked calm as could be. No. Not calm.

Resigned.

BA watched out of the corner of his eye as Face pulled open the door. No more duffels back there, LT. What're you gonna do now?

He could almost see the panic flare up before the deep breath came, and Face stepped into the van, taking the seat next to the door. For a moment BA thought he would be going right back out that door, but, jaw set, he instead reached over and slid it shut.

BA glanced at Hannibal, but seeing the same set jaw, wisely said nothing. He pulled out onto the street and within a few minutes had parked behind the second-hand store. Once again, he could see Face steeling himself before getting out of the van, but he didn't say a word and followed Hannibal inside the store. BA, as had become the custom, followed behind him.

Hannibal stopped in the middle of the huge warehouse-like building, frowning, looking around almost absently. BA just knew there was something on Hannibal's mind, and it sure as hell wasn't furniture. Sure enough, Hannibal whipped out his wallet, yanked out a credit card and thrust it at Face.

"Okay, Lieutenant. Let's see if you've lost your touch." He nodded curtly at the multitude of beds, couches, chairs, and tables surrounding them. "Get the house filled - and cheap."

Without another word, he strode off.

BA wasn't sure who had the more shocked expression - him or Face. Face swallowed, staring first at the card in his hand, then at BA.

"I... I can't..."

BA pursed his lips. Time to do what sergeants did.

"Sure you can, LT. You got the gift. Always did, always will." He nodded sharply. No arguments.

Face swallowed again and started looking around. For a moment, BA almost felt sorry for him. Would have, except his thoughts were already on Hannibal and where he'd disappeared to.

*****

Hannibal knew it was a dirty trick, but he really had no choice. He'd thought and thought, but there was no way he could just take off in BA's van without having to explain. And he didn't need BA up in arms again.

They did need furniture so that at least gave him a way to get into town. And as soon as he'd seen that telephone booth on the corner, he'd known this was his golden opportunity. So Face maybe wasn't ready for negotiating over supplies just yet, but with BA there, he'd be okay.

Yeah. He'd be okay.

Hannibal pushed those thoughts aside as he slid the door to the telephone booth shut. Deal with that later. Right now, he had to hope his cover as Murdock's uncle would still hold.

The phone on the other end seemed to ring forever. Finally, Richter's secretary answered, sounding flustered.

"Hello, this is Tyrone Bradley, Captain Murdock's uncle, and I - "

"Oh, Mr Bradley! We've been trying to locate you!"

Shit.

"Is there a problem with my nephew?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr Bradley. Dr Richter definitely wants to speak with you. Is there any way you could come in to see him - today?"

Shit.

Leave Face here with BA? All day? After just moving in, the damn furniture... But Murdock and that fucking file...

"Mr Bradley?"

Face and BA. Murdock and that file. Murdock had Richter. Face...

"Mr Bradley...."

"I can't make it today, ma'am. I'm sorry. Really sorry. But I'm nowhere near LA. Can't I talk to the doc now?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr Bradley." There was a long pause, and Hannibal could hear voices in the background. Voices that were not happy or calm. When the secretary spoke next, her voice was low. "Sir, there are some Army officers here. They're demanding to see Captain Murdock. But he's had a major setback, Mr Bradley. We really need you here to help straighten this out."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"I promise I will get there just as quickly as I can, but there are... complications on this end. I'll have to try calling Dr Richter later."

"Well, is there a number we can reach you - "

Hannibal hung up the phone, but remained in the booth, door closed, the sounds from the street muffled through the glass. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling.

Murdock had read the file. That much was obvious. But had he told Richter about it? Shown it to him? Told him about Face? About Hannibal and BA?

And what about the damn Army officers? Who were they? Had they connected Murdock with the rest of the team? Or did they still think Wiley had been with them? What would Richter tell them about Murdock's absence? Which just happened to coincide with that circus in Alabama.

Hannibal looked bleakly out to the street, watching the cars, anonymous people driving them. People walked by the phone booth, unaware or unconcerned about the man standing inside. Caught up in their own day to day worries and concerns.

Hannibal shook his head, clearing his mind. He had to get back to the store, see what problems he'd have to deal with in there. Figure out some way of contacting Richter. Some way of getting back to LA without causing a furor down here, or getting caught in the Army's snare up there.

Some way of salvaging his team.

*****

"May I help you... gentlemen?" A middle-aged woman came striding briskly up, glasses perched firmly on a patrician nose, a slight frown on her face. Face took a step back, almost bumping into BA, who shook his head. He took another look at Face and quickly changed his mind. Quickest way out of this mess was to let this gal handle things.

"Yeah, we need furniture."

Raising an eyebrow, the woman gazed calmly at him for a moment.

"What kind of furniture?"

"All of it."

The woman cocked her head slightly, giving him a sardonic smile. "The whole store?"

BA glared at the woman, but what he was going to do to a certain colonel flashed through his mind.

"We need three beds. And mattresses. And a couch. And a table and chairs." He threw a glare at Face for good measure. "That's to start with."

Neither BA nor Face missed the quick but doubtful glance at their rumpled fatigues. Before BA could say a word, Face's shoulders straightened - if only slightly - and he held out the credit card Hannibal had given him. The saleslady smiled frostily, said, "One moment, please.", and stepped toward the registers.

While she was calling in to verify the card, BA watched Face out of the corner of his eye. Staring straight ahead, lips moving ever so slightly. Not good, man. Not good. He looked over as the saleslady started back toward them, a friendlier smile on her face now.

"Well now, that's all straightened out. Here's your card, Mr Hefley."

Face started as she thrust the card toward him. "I'm... I'm not Mr Hefley..."

BA almost groaned aloud. Face was gonna blow it before they even got started.

"That's... that's my father." Face smiled, but even BA could see it was forced. "He'll be back... to sign for... everything." Face glanced at BA, who nodded very slightly. Keep goin, LT. "Uh, in the meantime, let's, uh, let's see what you have for beds. I hope they aren't too... used."

BA sighed at the sidelong look the saleslady gave them, but then she smiled, somewhat uncertainly, and led the way toward the bedroom furnishings. Face hesitated, moving only when BA came up beside him.

Hannibal better get here and damn quick.

*****

Hannibal was slowly pacing, circling the phone booth. Where was that world famous plan when he needed it? He looked around, ridiculously hoping for some kind of miraculous inspiration. And then he saw it. Slowly a grin grew, and he hurried across the street.

Only minutes later he was back at the booth, flipping through the phonebook, road map stuffed into his pocket. Still grinning, he dialed and waited. Several minutes later he was through the last transfer, and he heard a gruff and thoroughly soldierly voice on the other end. He dropped the smile, forcing his own voice to sound anxious and hesitant.

"Yessir, say, uh, I hate to do this, Captain, but I feel it's my duty, y'know?"

"What is your duty, sir? And to whom am I speaking?"

"D'ya need to know my name? I mean, I don't need no trouble. And it's not me yer lookin for anyways. It's that colonel - Colonel Smith? Ain't that right?"

There was the slightest of pauses on the other end, and Hannibal could picture some hurried hand signals.

"Yes, sir, that's correct. Do you know where Colonel Smith is?"

"Well, no, sir, not right now I don't. But I do know where he's gonna be. He and them other men of his are sposed to meet my son over by Shoshone, sometime in the early afternoon tomorra. They's comin from Nevada way. I hate to turn 'em in, but I don't want my son gettin inta trouble over it neither."

He knew he was pouring it on a little thick, but he wanted to make damn sure they bought the story without suspicions. And it seemed to be working - the captain he was speaking to asked a few more questions before handing him over to his CO.

Hannibal finally hung up the phone, glancing nervously at his watch. He'd been gone much longer than he'd wanted to be, but he had to make sure. He wanted the Army scouring the desert, hours away from LA, when Uncle Tyrone showed up at the VA tomorrow.

Heading back to the second-hand store, Hannibal couldn't help but grin.

*****

BA quietly sighed with relief as the last item, a small kitchen table, was tagged with the name "Hefley". It hadn't been a sterling performance for the 'silver-tongued lieutenant', but BA wasn't unhappy with the results. It was amazing how quickly prices went down a notch or two, just because Face remained silent. The saleslady took it for disapproval; BA wasn't about to tell her Face was too nervous to open his yap.

And nervous was putting it mildly. BA wondered if the woman had noticed the little tremor in Face's hand as he kept pushing his hair back, or how he kept shifting position while she waited for each decision. Although it was BA that made the final choices, really. Once the price was as low as the store would go, he'd look over the piece for damage or wear. If he nodded an okay, that was it.

Now they stood at the counter, toting up the final bill.

"Now, as far as the pickup... "

"We want it delivered." BA deliberately tried not to scowl at her, but no way he was gonna make a dozen trips with the van.

"I see. Well, that will be extra, you know."

"How much?"

"We'll have to use the big truck, so... three hundred."

"No."

BA looked, surprised, at Face. He hadn't heard that tone for a couple days and didn't know if he liked hearing it now of all times.

"No? Well, I'm afraid that's our standard charge, and - "

"And you're using your own truck, your own employees, and you didn't exactly pay top dollar for that furniture to begin with." Face's jaw was tight, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other tightly clenched at his side. "Free delivery or we go down the road for our stuff."

"Well, I - "

"Fine. C'mon, BA." Face turned and started stalking toward the door.

"Wait! Wait, Mr Hefley." Face stopped and waited. "Fine. No charge for the delivery. But we won't be able to do it until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's just fine, ma'am."

Both BA and Face jumped at Hannibal's voice. The colonel came striding up to the counter, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "So, I believe you have some papers for me to sign?"

BA noted the grin faltered a bit at the cost, but Hannibal just nodded and signed. One more nod at the saleswoman and he was leading the way outside.

Once outside, Hannibal stopped to light a cigar, letting Face move ahead of him and stepping in front of BA.

"So?"

BA shook his head. He knew Hannibal would want to know all the details later; right now, he just wanted the baseline. Hannibal sighed, then both men looked at Face.

He was standing a few feet from the van, head down, fists jammed in his jacket pockets. He just... stood there. Hannibal started forward, but BA held him back. He knew Face shouldn't be approached. Not yet. But even he wasn't prepared when Face suddenly took off around the corner of the building. Sharing an alarmed glance, Hannibal and BA raced after him.

BA stopped short, Hannibal shoving into his back. A few feet away, one arm propped against the side of the building, Face was throwing up, his whole body jerking with each upheaval.

It seemed to take forever before it finally ended, and Face, breathing heavily, rested his head on the arm, still braced against the building. After a moment, he coughed and spit, then slowly straightened up.

Hannibal stepped over then, laying a hand on Face's shoulder. It was immediately shrugged violently away, and BA saw the angry look Face threw at the colonel. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Face stalked toward BA, shoving past and heading for the van.

The two men walked slowly back to the van. Just before getting in, Hannibal started to say something to BA, but BA was having none of it. The look he gave Hannibal said it all.

For the first time ever, BA realized that now he was on Face's side.


	6. Chapter 6

**October 16 1976 - 9 Days**

Dr Richter looked at him for a long time. Calm. Always maintain the calm.

"I'll do what I can, Murdock. Is this - Phil? - willing to come in, talk to me?"

"No. No, he... he can't do that."

"He can't?"

"No."

Dr Richter leaned back in his chair.

"Can't, Murdock? Or won't?"

"What difference does it make?" Murdock shot off the bed, striding to the window and back. Took a deep breath. "He isn't going to be talking to you. Doesn't matter why. So you have to help me help him. I tell you what... what happened, and you tell me how to fix it."

"It's not that simple, Murdock. You know that."

"Well, you make it that simple!"

Richter frowned.

"I think we need to start at the beginning, Murdock. A lot of vets have problems from the war. What made this fellow so important to you?"

"I told you. He was my friend."

"So good a friend that you've never before mentioned him?"

"What - you want a Who's Who of my friends from Nam now?"

"No, but I do need to understand more about your relationship with him." Richter leaned forward, the frown still there. "You broke out of the hospital, Captain, and disappeared for nearly three weeks. Three weeks. You come back worn out, thin... I need to understand, Murdock. Or I can't help you."

Murdock remained by the window, silent.

"How did your Uncle Tyrone find out about him, Murdock? Did Phil contact your uncle?"

Murdock's only response was a very small shake of his head. Richter pursed his lips, eyes narrowed.

"So you told your uncle. And he offered to help you get to your friend?"

"Not exactly. I... I kinda... I... " Murdock let out a deep breath, sagging ever so slightly.

Richter thought back to the events just before Murdock's escape. That other friend, the funeral.

"You played on his feelings for that other man, didn't you? The family friend who died?"

"It wasn't like that."

"But that death put everything in motion, didn't it?"

Murdock turned, staring at Richter. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then abruptly turned back and stared through the window again.

"How did you find out Phil was in need of help, Murdock?"

"I didn't. I mean, I..." Murdock suddenly began pacing in front of the window, short, jerky steps. "I didn't know he needed help. Not then. I just... I just needed to find out..."

"Find out what, Murdock? What was it about Phil that made you need to find him?"

"Nothing! Everything!" Murdock's voice rose, anger in each word. "What does it matter? I just need to help him."

"Why you? Doesn't he have friends, family? Why is it up to you?"

"Because it's my fault!"

"What's your fault, Murdock? What did you do to Phil?"

"I... I didn't... do anything." Murdock grabbed hold of the curtain, crushing it in his fist. "I didn't do anything and that's why it happened."

"Why what happened? What happened to Phil, Murdock?"

Murdock shook his head, leaning heavily against the wall, still holding the curtain. Tight.

Richter took a deep breath. "Does your uncle think it's your fault as well?"

"No." His voice was muffled, soft. "He won't even admit it's his."

Richter sat back. "Mr Bradley had something to do with this?"

"Hell, yes! If he hadn't left - " Murdock suddenly straightened, let go of the curtain. His voice, when he spoke next, was calm, as was his expression when he turned and looked at Richter. "That doesn't matter. Now we just have to make it right."

Richter matched his gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"So when did you find out he needed help?"

"When we found him."

"How long did that take you?"

"I don't know - a week, week and a half."

"So you and your uncle traveled around for over a week, looking for him."

"Yeah, and B... another fella."

"Another friend went with you? Why?"

"Why? Because we were all together in Nam, that's why!"

"All of you?"

"That's what I said!"

"Including your uncle?"

"Yes! No! He was... damn it, Doc!" Murdock whirled around, arms flailing in obvious frustration. "What the hell does it matter? You keep asking all these fucking questions and it doesn't matter!"

"I need to know - "

"You don't need to know a damn thing! Just forget it! Forget it!"

"Like you've tried to forget, Murdock?"

"Yeah, well, I can't, okay? I can't forget! None of it!"

Murdock flopped back against the wall, head back, eyes closed, chest heaving.

Richter remained quiet. None of this was making sense. He knew there were things about Murdock's family that were... hidden. Things neither Murdock nor his uncle wanted to discuss. This... friend. Suddenly appearing out of the past. Right after the funeral.

And not a word from Tyrone Bradley. Despite the closed doors to some areas of the family history, Murdock's uncle had been as helpful as he could, and Richter had come to think the man would never do anything to jeopardize Murdock's therapy. No. Bradley would never have taken Murdock out and not contacted Richter somehow, some way.

But this other man. This third man Murdock claimed had gone with them. What was his connection to Murdock? To this mysterious Phil?

What if Bradley had nothing to do with all of this? Murdock was not known to be the most truthful client. In fact, most of their therapy sessions were spent working around the tall tales and bald-faced lies. Particularly when Murdock had been having those delusional episodes.

Richter looked over at Murdock, still leaning against the wall, eyes still closed. Mr Bradley hadn't been the only visitor Murdock had over the last few months. That priest, those other vets. The letters he'd written. Richter didn't believe for one minute Murdock's tale of hijacking that van. That didn't mean one of his other visitors hadn't given him a ride.

But why? Why would they do that? Surely they must have realized that he was seriously ill.

But why would they know how sick he was? A lot of people thought you could pull yourself out of a mental illness. Maybe he convinced them he was being held against his will. That he would be okay if he could just get out of the VA.

Richter closed his eyes, rubbing his neck thoughtfully. So why did Murdock want out? What made it so important now? Had the decision to let him attend his friend's funeral been the wrong one? He looked down at his notes. Looked at the reports from the staff.

And knew.

"How long have the nightmares been back, Captain?"

"Nightmares? No, no, I don't have - "

"The nurses and orderlies both reported on that, Murdock." Richter sat back in the chair, watching carefully. "You don't remember them?"

Murdock stared at the ceiling for a moment. He slowly lowered his head, now staring at the floor.

"Murdock?"

"No. No, I didn't dream it. I didn't."

Richter sat, quietly, waiting. Murdock gradually moved toward the bed, sat down. Slowly. Everything deliberate, slow motion, wooden. Richter sat up a little straighter. Carefully.

"When you say you didn't dream it, you're talking about your friend, Phil, aren't you?"

The eyes remained closed. A little furrow appeared on Murdock's forehead.

"It wasn't a dream. I wish it was." Murdock looked over at Richter. "It was all there, in black and white. All of it. And I could see it all. Like watching a movie. And I can't... I can't get rid of it. It just stays there, in my head..." Tears began trickling down Murdock's face.

Richter leaned forward, speaking softly, treading lightly.

"Tell me, Murdock. What did you see?"

"Hell, Doc. I saw Hell."

*****

Hannibal sat on the floor in the living room, leaning as comfortably as he could get against the wall. Through the large front window, he could see BA heading around the corner of the house, his afternoon spent laying a trip wire around the front and side yards. Both he and BA would have preferred to have it further from the house, but they could only go out so far without the neighbors seeing them. At least they wouldn't have that problem in the back.

Hannibal turned slightly so he could see into the kitchen. When they'd gotten back, Hannibal had set Face up on KP of sorts. Wiping out the cupboards and drawers, putting away the few supplies they already had with them. Maybe it was just as well the furniture wouldn't be coming until tomorrow. The trip to town had been... well, not the best. Which was why Hannibal had given Face the task of organizing the kitchen. Kept him occupied but at the same time, nothing more difficult than deciding where to put the plates. And some time to gather himself together again.

Face hadn't given even a hint of argument about it, either, which surprised Hannibal. No, no arguments. Just that quiet detachment - and a hint that some things hadn't changed as much as he'd thought.

Hannibal sighed, shifting again, trying to get comfortable, and frowned. Something had changed - with BA. He thought it was a good change, but he couldn't swear to it. After BA had surveyed the yard, he'd come in and gotten Face and the two of them had started putting up the trip wires. That had surprised him - BA seeming to want Face's help. So maybe things were changing for the better, after all.

Maybe.

Hannibal looked out the window again, hearing BA's voice. The two men were looking at something toward the front of the yard, near the road. Probably trying to figure out what defenses they could put out there without throwing the neighbors into a panic. For his part, Hannibal was supposedly going over their finances, which BA willingly left to him; Face showed the usual disinterest. But what Hannibal was actually doing was thinking about that file and the man he now knew for sure had it.

At some point, Hannibal would have to tell them about his trip tomorrow. For a short time, he considered just taking off in the morning, before they were up. Leave a short note and save the explanations for when he got back. At least that way he'd actually have something to tell them. He knew he couldn't say anything around Face about that file; he'd have to tell BA privately. But once he'd seen Murdock, and talked to Richter, he'd know what he could and couldn't tell them both.

Yeah, just leaving in the morning sounded pretty good. He'd only have to face the music once, that way.

On the other hand, he wouldn't be able to say a lot in his note, either. How could he, when he, himself, didn't know what the hell was really going on up there? He could say Murdock was having some problems - safe enough - but inadequate. BA definitely wouldn't accept that as a reason for leaving him alone with Face. Changes were coming, but Hannibal didn't expect miracles.

So BA wouldn't accept that, and he'd spend the day wondering where Hannibal had really gone; what, if anything, was really wrong with Murdock. Worrying about the MPs, if Hannibal would get caught. Maybe wondering if Hannibal would actually come back if he didn't get caught.

Yeah. Another casualty of this... mess. BA's trust. Of course, Hannibal would come back. He'd never desert his men. Not... knowingly.

But BA was no longer sure of that. Of Hannibal. As if...

Then the truth shoved itself in his face. He'd kept telling himself that he wasn't dragging BA and Face up there because it was too risky; that's why they'd come down here to begin with. And Face just wasn't stable enough to take on another long trip like that; who knew what he might pull, or why? Plus he didn't want them seeing, or asking to see, Murdock; God only knew what state he was in, and what seeing that might do to all of them.

All good reasons. Very good reasons.

But he knew what the truth was. Knew why he needed to leave them here. Knew what he had been thinking about, deep under all those very logical reasons. Despite the circumstances.

Two and a half hours to Westwood. Two and a half hours back.

He closed his eyes.

Five hours.

Five hours, all alone.

*****

"Good night, Doctor. Don't stay too late."

Richter nodded absently at his secretary and heard the office door close behind her. Ann had stayed late, not because of the workload, but to keep an eye on him. He knew that. Appreciated it. Appreciated even more that she hadn't made a big fuss about it, and had enough sense to finally go home without nagging him to do the same.

He turned back to his notes, trying to concentrate, failing miserably. Too many things to think about, too many things that just didn't add up. Like having sunshine on one side of the house and stepping around the corner to find a tornado.

No. Stepping right into the middle of it.

Murdock was still in the secured ward. Richter was taking no chances - not that Murdock was in any shape to make another run for it. The floodgates had opened and Murdock had described his nightmares in full detail. 'Hell', Murdock had called them.

Richter agreed. A hundred and ten percent.

What he couldn't understand was where it had all come from. Certainly, Murdock had been down when he returned from that funeral. But he'd quickly recovered - or so it had seemed. If anything, he'd been more upbeat than they'd seen him be in a long time.

Which was probably the signal Richter shouldn't have missed.

Hindsight is 20/20, as they say. Richter had seen it as a sign that Murdock was coming to grips with reality. Accepting that death was a part of life, in or out of war. Accepting the fact that he couldn't change that.

How wrong he'd been.

He glanced at the note from his secretary, detailing the call from Murdock's uncle. Odd coincidence that he should call today of all days, and yet Ann had said he seemed taken by surprise by Murdock's state. Add to that the fact that he was 'nowhere near LA'. Richter believed that. Mr Bradley had always come immediately when Murdock had had problems before. If he couldn't this time, he definitely wasn't near LA.

Which only led back to the man who'd helped Murdock escape. Whoever the hell that was. Possibly another man as well. Murdock kept referring to 'the others'. Plural.

But then, maybe that was part of his delusion, too.

Richter only knew with certainty that something had happened in those three weeks. Something that brought Murdock to the attention of the military again. Those Army officers showing up like that. The interest in Murdock had tapered off some time ago, once they realized that Murdock had had no contact with those other men. So why now? Why so insistent? Had Murdock met up with the wrong people? Said the wrong thing at the wrong time? But how in God's name could the Army think he knew anything about some mess in Alabama?

Alabama. Sure. Richter didn't care what Murdock might have told his 'benefactor' - no one would take Murdock clear across the country! That was just ludicrous. And again, just because it had something to do with that colonel and his men.

Richter sighed, rubbing his forehead. He thought he'd never have to deal with that type of military thinking again. Bull-headed nincompoops. He'd had to threaten to call their CO before they'd finally left. As if he'd let them interrogate Murdock, in the condition he was in.

Full circle. Murdock. Richter had seen a lot of men fall apart, and it was never easy to witness, but he'd never expected... Murdock had problems, but he'd always had an awareness that helped him cope. Maybe not in the most constructive ways, but still... No, this was a Murdock he'd never seen before. The words rushing out, a confused tangle of details and innuendo... The usual vulgarities of Nam coupled with odd bits and pieces that made no sense - even some kind of island sanctuary. Richter had finally quit trying to talk sensibly with him, instead only kept him from getting too wildly out of control. And finally, after what seemed like hours, Murdock had worn himself out. Or given up. As quickly as it started, the talking stopped, and Murdock had faded into himself, refusing - or unable - to even acknowledge Richter's presence.

He looked again at the note about Bradley. He was on his way, apparently.

None too soon.

*****

"You what!"

Hannibal closed his eyes. He hated it when BA's questions didn't sound like questions. Always meant he was not going along with whatever Hannibal had planned. At least, not without an argument. The raised volume guaranteed that argument.

"Look, I'll leave first thing in the morning - early morning. Before daylight. I'll be back mid-afternoon at the latest."

"And what am I sposed to do in the meantime? I can't - " BA stopped, glancing over at Face before turning his glare back at Hannibal. "They deliverin the furniture tomorrow, or did you forget about that?"

Time for a little reminder of his own. "No, Sergeant - I didn't forget. I'm sure you and Face can handle that very well. Together."

Hannibal knew BA had a lot more to say about it, but Face decided that was the moment to head up to his room. He hadn't looked any happier than BA at the announcement but hadn't said a word. Hannibal gave him time to get up the stairs before he stood to follow and gave BA that "colonel look", as Murdock called it. They would continue their discussion after Hannibal had Face sorted out.

Hannibal stopped at the top of the stairs, momentarily preparing himself before confronting Face. And confrontation it would be, that he knew. He'd seen the anger in Face's eyes down in the living room, knew how long it took for the man to calm back down.

Straightening his back almost unconsciously, he took the few steps to the door and knocked lightly. Calm. Keep it calm. In control.

"It's open."

Hannibal blinked. Face never left his doors unlocked. What little shred of certainty he'd felt a moment before disappeared. He had no idea what he'd find in that room now.

Face was sitting in the corner on his still rolled up sleeping bag. He faced the door but was staring at his hands, folded over his knees. The light from the dying sunset gave everything a rosy glow, but it wouldn't be long before the room was in darkness. Hannibal didn't like that thought.

"I know neither you nor BA is happy about this trip, Face. But it is necessary."

"Murdock?"

The quiet question surprised him. Lucky guess? Or was Face getting back some that perceptiveness that had made him so successful in Nam? But how to answer?

Honestly. That's what Hannibal had decided earlier. After thinking about all the things he could say. And then thinking about their whole situation here. This was supposed to be a new start for Face. For them all. Get him over all the shit that had happened, get him to move on, start living again. Hannibal couldn't accomplish that with lies. He didn't have to tell him everything. But he wouldn't lie to a direct question either.

"Yeah. Murdock's having some trouble. I, uh... well, the VA thinks I'm his uncle. So I have to go up there and make sure everything gets smoothed out."

"That happen a lot?"

"Occasionally, yeah."

Hannibal waited, watching. Saw him lick his lips. Saw his knuckles whiten.

Then it hit him. Face wasn't angry.

He was scared.

"You'll... " Face cleared his throat, "you'll... " Face looked at Hannibal for the first time. The question there nearly broke him.

"I'll come back, Face. I will always come back."


	7. Chapter 7

**October 17 1976 - 10 Days**

It was not quite six in the morning, the sun barely awake, as Hannibal slowly backed out of the garage. He glanced quickly at the house before continuing down the long drive, not seeing and not expecting to see any sign of life. He smiled grimly. He might not be as young as he used to be, but he could still move quietly enough not to wake those two, still bagging z's. And waking BA this early was something he definitely didn't want to do.

Okay. He had to be fair - after he'd explained to BA about Murdock, there'd been no more grumbling about the trip. He still hadn't been happy about Hannibal going alone, but one nod toward the stairs and BA had dropped the subject.

He drove through the quiet streets and onto the San Diego Freeway. This early on a Sunday morning, even the freeway seemed relatively quiet. He was glad of that. He needed to think things through before he got to the VA. Not knowing what Murdock may have said, what condition he was in when he said it, or who he said it to. Had Richter shown those officers the door? Had he been forced to let them talk to Murdock? Were they still watching the VA, even with Hannibal's red herring?

He glanced in the rearview mirror, grimacing a bit at the still black hair. He wasn't sure how he'd explain that yet. Minor problem. Richter might not even notice.

No. Richter would definitely notice. And it would be one more red flag for him.

What if Richter wasn't even there today? It might not be, as Hannibal had assumed, his weekend rotation. Maybe they'd only called him in because of Murdock. Well, that might work out better. Another doctor wouldn't notice the dye job, at any rate. And the facts of Murdock's case wouldn't change. Hannibal would still be able to find out what happened.

It would be better if he could talk to Richter, though. Richter could tell him things that wouldn't be in the reports.

Reports. That was the other sticky point. Did Murdock still have that file with him? Had the staff found it? Read it? If they had...

He frowned, barely noticing as he passed through San Diego and continued north on the 805.

*****

BA watched the van pull out onto the street and drive away. He sighed deeply, shaking his head. He hoped Hannibal wasn't going to be as careless up there as he'd been this morning. Tromping around like a damn elephant, waking the dead. Much as he hated the idea of training exercises, might not be a bad idea to make use of that forest behind the house.

Behind him, he heard Face unlocking his door. Another moment of silence, then quiet footsteps down the stairs. That one didn't need no refresher course. Even when he wasn't trying, he could sneak past damn near anyone.

BA headed across the room, following Face downstairs. He wasn't at all sure how this day was going to work out. From one minute to the next, he never knew what direction the LT was going. Last night, Hannibal said Face hadn't locked his door. Like it was a big milestone.

Wonder how many seconds it took after Hannibal left him for that to change.

BA stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs, watching Face watching out the window. Didn't matter if he'd locked it after talking to Hannibal. What mattered was he'd left it unlocked to begin with.

He was trying.

BA straightened, nodding as Face turned and looked at him.

BA Baracus would keep trying, too.

*****

It took a moment before Hannibal realized where he was. He tried to shrug it off; he'd driven by Pendleton several times over the years. Hell, he'd even gone fishing there - well, Murdock's Uncle Tyrone had. Hannibal smiled a bit at that. Good old Tyrone had shown up a few places over the last couple years. Didn't hurt his credibility any.

Well, until now.

He frowned, rolling his shoulders and determinedly concentrating on the road ahead. There were other thoughts creeping into his head now. Memories and pictures of things he thought he'd put aside.

Platt. Even after all that crap in the camps, he'd stayed in the Corps. Was one of the Marines still over there before Saigon fell. Should've been stateside, raising a family, going to school. All he'd gotten was a body bag.

Damn shame.

Like Cook, and Shipley. He should've gotten them out along with the others. He tried really hard not to think of those two. They hadn't been his, officially, and not even for very long, but still... He'd been in charge.

Seemed to take forever to drive the twenty-some mile stretch of highway. Beach on one side, sharp foothills on the other. Marines all over both.

He didn't know what had happened to Russo. Hannibal had figured he'd stay with Platt, but he'd gotten out just as fast as he could. Semper Fi be damned. But that was okay. Ray had done the same when he'd seen the writing on the wall. Smart. Hannibal should've gotten out. Maybe if he had, BA and Face wouldn't have stayed either. Sure as hell that robbery wouldn't have happened.

He again straightened his shoulders.

Sure as hell Wiley wouldn't have...

Shit.

Hannibal glared at the hillside and pressed down on the accelerator.

Hard.

*****

Face was looking through the front window at the empty garage. It sat at an angle to the house, a short breezeway between the two buildings. He pondered on that for a while, wondering at the logic. Anything to keep from thinking of Hannibal driving away. Wondering what had happened with Murdock. If anything had happened with Murdock.

The idea that Hannibal might not come back didn't bother him nearly as much as his own reaction to that idea. He didn't want Hannibal to disappear again. And that had both surprised him and scared him. Until he remembered. Hannibal couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until Face had a chance to make it up to him. He didn't know how to do that yet, but he would find some way. Because this was all his fault. He knew that now.

Because of Wrenn.

So Hannibal had to come back. And Face had to make it up to Hannibal, and BA. It was too late for Wiley - but then, Face figured they were even.

He softly chewed on his lip. Was Murdock his fault? He didn't think so. Murdock had been on his way to the funny farm long before the robbery. And it sounded like he'd stayed in Nam even after the guys were arrested. Which probably proved the man was crazy.

Murdock wasn't his fault. But Murdock was the reason they'd finally come looking for him. Gotten him out of the hellhole.

He owed Murdock, but how to repay him was way beyond Face's imagination right now. But one day.

"You ready for breakfast, LT?"

Face jumped. Damn it. He had to stay focused. Too many times he'd gone off in his thoughts, forgotten what was going on around him. Didn't know when that had started, but he didn't like it. Had to stay on top of things. Had to - 

"Face?"

"Yeah." He could feel his face warming as he hurried across the living room. BA had been acting different lately. Almost... friendly. At least he wasn't angry all the time. Face didn't want to rock the boat there. No. Had to keep things smooth. Had to.

Not that he was much help in the kitchen. The only cooking he'd done for a long time was over a campfire. And, try as he would, he couldn't help jumping back when BA stepped too close. Finally, BA stopped and looked at him, and Face waited for the ax to fall.

"You want toast? Ain't got a toaster but we can do it on the burner there."

Face looked over at the stove. Electric. Yeah, that could work.

"Yeah."

"Okay." BA turned on the burner and laid two slices of bread on it. "Now, you just gotta turn 'em over when they start getting dark. Okay?"

Face nodded, moving over beside the stove and stared down at the bread, concentrating. He knew BA was close to losing his temper and he couldn't let that happen. Not today. Not with Hannibal gone. So no drifting off. Concentrate. On the other burner, BA had tossed bacon into their only frying pan and was now cracking eggs into a battered metal bowl for scrambling.

He could smell the bacon now, as it started really cooking. Face shifted. BA glanced over, smiling. He was smiling an awful lot this morning. BA didn't smile. Something wrong with BA smiling. He looked down at the bread. Concentrate. The burner was on low. That was okay. Only a dummy could burn toast on the low setting. That much he knew.

The bacon started crackling. The smell got stronger. He shifted again, moving to the side of the stove. That smell followed him.

He knew that smell. Not... not bacon.

He took a step back from the stove.

No. It's just bacon. That's all. Just bacon. Concentrate. Watch the bread. Don't let it burn.

Not like...

He swallowed. Hard.

BA was looking in the cupboard now. Face had put the small stock of spices up there. BA wouldn't understand. He stepped back toward the stove. Watch the bread. Getting brown now. On the edges. Turn it over. Don't let it burn.

He grabbed the first slice by the corner, flipped it over. Hot. He grabbed the other one, dropped it half on, half off the burner.

The bacon smell was filling the kitchen now.

Like it filled the cave. Couldn't get away from that smell.

The screams.

He saw how Arnie had looked at him. Like he was some kind of monster. Couldn't help it. Nothing he could do. Nothing any of them could do. Nothing but listen to those screams and pretend he didn't hear them. Pretend it wasn't happening. Go somewhere else. Think about something else. Ignore the screams. Ignore the smell. Ignore it. It wasn't happening. It wasn't...

"Face!"

*****

He hadn't intended to stop. Maybe it was the early hour, maybe it was a lack of decent sleep the night before... maybe he was just tired, period. For whatever reason, he saw the signs for the mission and he followed them. He drove down the street, passing, again for reasons unknown, the mission itself. He pulled into a parking lot, squeezing the van in between a camper and a station wagon, habit making him check to be sure the van wouldn't be easily seen before he shut it off and stepped out. He just wanted to move around a bit, then he'd get on the road again.

Stepping away from the van, he rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms out and back. Felt good, getting the kinks out. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and, lighting it, started strolling up the sidewalk across from the mission. For a few minutes - just a few - he would pretend he had nothing more pressing on his mind than enjoying a slow cigar.

He glanced over at the mission periodically as he walked. Stone walls and plantings made it difficult to see inside the grounds, but he could see the swallows drifting above. He stopped, watching them for a few moments. Soon time for them to leave the mission, heading wherever it was they went for the winter. Reminded him of watching the birds back home when he was a kid. Huge flocks, gathering and whirling around the sky, then gradually they disappeared as the cold weather came in. He remembered that strange loneliness, watching them. Wishing he, too, was heading... somewhere.

He continued up the street. Just a little ways further. That's all.

He looked across the street again. From here he could see the bell wall, with the ages-old bells gently swaying in the wind.

"Those bells were hung from a tree before the mission itself got built."

Hannibal jumped, jerking his head around to find an old man beside him. The man looked from the bells to Hannibal, smiling a nearly toothless grin.

"Some people call it the Mission of the Tragedies." They looked back across the street, the old man's head moving slowly as he looked along the long protective walls. "Yep, thing dang near died don't know how many times. First the Indians, then pirates. Earthquakes, too. Seems like God himself wanted to be rid of it." The old man chuckled. "Or maybe He was just testin, huh? 'Cause she sure didn't wanna die. Now they call her the Jewel of the Missions." The old man shook his head, moving slowly off. "Yep, now they call her the Jewel..."

Hannibal looked at the mission for another moment before turning toward the old man. But he was already disappearing around the curve. Frowning, Hannibal took one last look across the street, considering the old bells, the swallows, what the old man had said. Thought about Face - and the one aspect he hadn't considered until now.

Maybe... Hannibal felt a small surge of hope. Could the Church help? Would having him talk to a priest give him some peace? Or would it make him feel even worse? He thought about Father O'Malley. Tried to picture Face telling him what had happened. No. That wouldn't work. Hannibal couldn't see Face telling a priest about that.

He turned, tossing the cigar in the gutter, and walked slowly back to the van. Pulling out onto the street, he took one last look at the mission.

No. He couldn't see Face telling anyone about that.

*****

BA sat on the steps, chewing on burned toast. He didn't like it, but it was his own fault. One, for even suggesting toast when they had no toaster. Two, for using the burners on the stove to make the toast. Three, for telling the LT to watch the toast while he dished up the rest of their makeshift breakfast. Shouldn't have done that, not knowing Face had a habit of spacing out at the oddest of times.

BA sighed, looking out at the yard, and tossed the rest of his toast on the grass. Face, sitting on the other side of the porch, looked up. BA forced a smile and shrugged. Waited. Face looked at his own blackened slice and tossed it over the rail. BA thought he saw a smile. Yeah. That was a smile. Good.

BA smiled back."Burnt offering."

Face's eyes widened. "What?"

BA shook his head, smiling more widely now. "That's what my mama used to say when she burned something. Y'know - from the Bible?" Face abruptly turned his head, looking out over the backyard.

Damn. Shoulda remembered. The LT was Catholic. Maybe that wasn't the best joke to make. Dumb joke to make.

"Hey, man, I didn't mean no disrespect. I - " He stopped as Face tossed his plate off the porch. Waited, a wary frown forming as Face looked down and away.

"He screamed."

BA barely made out the words. "What'd you say, Face?"

Face raised his head, staring up at the sky.

"He screamed. Over and over... over and... " His voice trailed away to a whisper.

BA stood slowly, cautiously crossing the small porch. He knelt, just as slowly, beside Face, watching his lips moving as he continued to gaze upward. Whatever he was saying was inaudible.

"Face?"

Face stopped, swallowed. "He was... he was just a kid. And they... they made him... they cut off pieces of him and made him... " Face swallowed again. "They threw his body on the fire. When he died, they threw him on the fire. And the smoke came in and the smell came in and... and... "

"Face." BA took his shoulder, giving him the smallest shake. He could feel the tremor under his hand. "Face, that's... that's all done with now. Over and done with. Ain't nothin you can do about it now."

Face turned, looking straight at BA.

"There was nothing I could do about it then, either, BA. I knew it. So I just shut it out. Didn't listen. But I heard it, BA. I heard it all. I tried to shut it out but it was still there. Over and over and... "

"I know, LT. The things we all seen over there - but like I said, it's over now. And it's, it's like seeing a dog run over in the street, y'know? Ain't nothin you do can change what happened. So you just... you just gotta let it go. Can't forget it - I know that. But you don't think about it. Cause that just makes it hurt. And you had enough a that already."

BA knew he shouldn't have said that the second the words came out. Face flushed crimson and abruptly stood, nearly knocking BA over. By the time BA got his balance and stood, the screen door had swung shut, and he could hear the quick footsteps going up the stairs. A door slammed.

BA sat back on the steps, watching the birds picking at the toast in the grass.

*****

He'd been driving for well over an hour since leaving the mission. Thoughts about Face were pushed out of his head. He couldn't say he felt confident that BA would keep things from blowing up, but he would keep them under control. That was probably the best anyone could hope for at the moment. Now he had to think about Murdock and Richter. Try to come up with the right questions, the right answers, the right explanations.

Best case scenario - Murdock was just worn down from the trip, hadn't had a chance to read the file.

Fat chance.

Okay. So he'd read it. Hannibal didn't need much imagination to know what sort of 'major setback' that had caused. Which meant it was Richter's bailiwick and Hannibal would have to deal with him. He'd have to give the doc enough info so he could help Murdock without bringing the military down on all of them.

But how much was really enough?

That all depended on whether Richter had found that file. Hannibal had no doubt Richter would be waving the damn thing in Hannibal's face if he had. Telling him what an idiot he was for letting Murdock have it.

Nothing that Hannibal hadn't already been telling himself. He'd kicked himself a hundred times since that phone call yesterday. Why the hell hadn't he locked that glove box? Or put that file in his own duffle? Someplace Murdock wouldn't have looked? Having other things on his mind was no excuse. He was a military man - he was supposed to be able to handle every and all situations that came up. It shouldn't have mattered what else was going on. Just finding Murdock with it in the first place...

Hannibal jerked as a horn blared past. Dammit! That's all he needed - get himself into a car wreck. Wouldn't the Army just love that? And then where would they be? He could just see Murdock - he'd go so deep into LaLa Land he'd never find his way back. And BA, Face - hell, if they didn't kill each other first, they'd find some other way to self-destruct. BA had always had a quick temper, and it had just gotten worse since that courts-martial. If it hadn't been for Hannibal - and getting involved with those kids - BA would've been in jail or dead long ago. And Face... well, Hannibal had no doubt at all what would happen to him.

Traffic was slowing now as cars, taxis, and busses started maneuvering for the LAX exits. Hannibal watched as one by one, they slipped off the freeway, heading for the terminals. He felt a little tug, inside. Wouldn't be the first time he'd considered getting on a plane, heading back to the Midwest. Back to his roots. Not that it really mattered now - he had no one left back there. Still... it was home. Always would be. Except, of course, he couldn't really go home. People back there would know who he was, and, hometown boy or not, they'd turn him in. Loyalty to friends never came before the law. Not back there. Especially friends they hadn't heard from in years.

Didn't have to go home, though. He could just get on a plane... any plane. Go anywhere. Start over, fresh. Clean slate. Forget all of this. Did he really think he was the only safety net for these guys? Was he that egotistical? When it came right down to it, hadn't he done enough already? What other CO would've stuck around for Murdock? He wasn't his father, for chrissake. One day the guy would have to stand on his own two feet, make it in the real world.

BA wasn't a kid anymore. Hell, was it Hannibal's fault he hadn't learned to control his temper? Was he supposed to hang around like a damn truant officer, making sure the sergeant toed the line?

And Face...

And Face.

He watched as the last exit disappeared in the rearview mirror.

*****

BA had washed up the dishes, handling them more carefully than he normally would. He didn't want to make too much noise. If there was anything going on upstairs that... well, that shouldn't be, he wanted to hear it. He'd thought about going up there, trying to talk to him, but he knew his limitations. That'd been brought home full force.

He was just putting the last plate away when a loud buzz sounded from the living room. Immediately he grabbed the 45 from the counter and rushed to the front window, peering around the edge without moving the sheer curtain. He heard footsteps upstairs and knew Face was watching just as intensely from the front bedroom.

Moments later a large straight truck appeared around the last small stand of trees, pulling to a rough stop by the garage. Two heavy-set men in dirty jeans and t-shirts climbed out of the cab. One consulted a clipboard while the other ambled to the back and opened the wide swing doors. Only then did BA relax, seeing the truck filled with their furniture.

He put the 45 carefully in a kitchen drawer, giving the receiver for their trip line a satisfied smile as he passed. He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't know how much of the work those two dudes outside intended to do, and knew he couldn't do it all himself, but he couldn't help thinking the more time the LT had to settle down, the better.

The two men looked BA up and down as he came off the front steps. BA knew that look and didn't like it, not one bit. But he knew Hannibal would cut him a new one if he caused problems with them. The less notice they drew, the longer the three of them could stay here. So he swallowed his pride and, while not friendly, didn't challenge them.

The men were in a hurry, and BA knew they resented working on Sunday morning. Well, that wasn't his fault - he smiled a bit, remembering Face, starting to walk out on her. He sure put the kibosh on any more delivery arguments. Then BA frowned, remembering the aftermath.

He came back to the present as the liftgate began whining, slowly descending with the first pieces of furniture. He stepped over - might not like these guys or their attitude, but he wasn't going to stand around like an overseer, either. Sooner they got this stuff in the house, sooner these guys would out of here.

"Where you want this?"

The older of the two - and the fattest - stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding the headboard for one of the beds.

"Just put everything in the livin room. I'll put it away later."

BA ignored the surprised looks the two men exchanged. Face was still quiet upstairs, and BA wanted to keep it that way. Hell, the LT could be sleeping - or he could be waiting for an enemy attack. Just never knew with that guy. BA wasn't going to tempt fate. No way.

It took almost an hour. The two movers taking the heavier pieces between them, BA hauling in the rest. He heard the quiet comments, the muttered resentment. Made his blood boil, but dammit, Hannibal was counting on him. He was a Special Forces Sergeant First Class - he had a mission to complete and by God, he was going to do it without any hitches.

The last piece of furniture was the couch. It was oversized, bulky and heavy, barely fitting in the door. BA shook his head as the movers struggled with it. Face had stood in the midst of all the couches, undecided. Then he'd looked at BA, so intensely it made BA uncomfortable. And then he'd looked over at the biggest, heaviest couch and pointed.

A perfect fit for a man like BA.

Now, watching the struggle to get the couch inside and then find a place for it among all the other furniture, BA was wishing Face hadn't been so eager to please. He started moving chairs, tables, lamps - anything to make room for it and get these guys out before the last bit of their patience ran out.

Then the old guy tripped over the coffee table. He fell, shoving the couch frantically away from him. The couch turned, pulling out the other man's hands and dropping like a boulder to the floor.

BA, standing by the stairs, started toward the first man, but something stopped him. He looked up - Face was at the top of the stairs, and his expression spooked BA.

"S'okay, man. We got it." He looked Face right in the eye, trying to sound... normal.

"So that's why we couldn't go upstairs, huh?"

BA jerked around at the sneering tone. The man who'd tripped was leering up at Face, rubbing his shin. His partner was shaking his head, a disgusted look on his face.

"You better leave. Now." BA jerked his head at the door.

"Yeah, you bet." Limping, the older man led the way outside, BA following as far as the door. He heard Face coming slowly down the stairs behind him, staying back some distance.

Which was just fine with BA.

The two movers stood by the truck as the liftgate slowly rose back into position. They continued to glare at BA, and Face, who now stood just behind him, as they stepped into the truck and backed out. BA was just starting to relax when the truck abruptly stopped, and the younger man climbed out, clipboard in hand. Scowling, he walked up toward BA.

Mumbling, "You gotta sign that.", he tossed the clipboard on the porch.

It took every ounce of will-power, but BA silently reached down and picked up the board. He scribbled across the bottom, tearing the sheet and not caring. With a small smile, he tossed the clipboard on the grass at the man's feet.

The two men looked at each other for what seemed like hours. BA could feel Face moving closer. He gave a slight jerk of his head at the mover, and thankfully, he took the hint. He reached down and grabbed up the clipboard.

Then he screwed it all up. Intentionally or not, the insult was heard.

"Fuckin' nigger fag..."

Face was flying out the door before BA even knew he'd moved. Almost too late, BA grabbed him around the waist, yanking him off his feet before he could tackle the mover.

"What the fuck?"

"Get outta here! Now!" BA yelled, half afraid Face would get loose, half afraid he'd let him.

It wasn't until the truck was disappearing around the curve that BA relaxed his hold on Face, who shoved away, staggering a few steps down the drive. He spun around, rage on his face.

"Why? Why'd you let him say that? Why - "

" 'Cause it don't matter. It don't!" BA's shoulders slumped, the tension suddenly gone. "Gotta let that shit go, Face. Let it go."

Face looked from BA to the drive, and for a moment, BA wasn't sure if he was going to start after the truck or not. Face turned, and BA could see the indecision, the frustration. Suddenly Face headed for the house, pushing past BA. He stopped on the porch. Not looking back, he said, "He shouldn't have called you that."

BA shook his head. "I know that."

Face nodded, headed into the house, and stopped again in the doorway. BA watched, waiting. Face grabbed the doorframe, shoulders sagging, and looked back.

"And I'm not."

He moved into the house. BA could hear him going back up the stairs. Slowly. He sighed.

"I know you ain't, LT. I know."

*****

He pulled the van into a parking spot not far from Murdock's building. He looked around carefully as he got out. He'd never liked the layout of the VA. Too many straight streets, with large uncluttered buildings. Way too easy to get cut off, way too hard to hide. He and BA both knew this place like the back of their hands, had traveled the streets many times, looking. Verifying. They knew where to go, where not to. Most of the damn place was a 'not to'. They'd been lucky so far; the Army had never been here at the same time they were.

This might be a first.

He'd parked on the edge of the lot, facing the street. He could bounce over the curb to the street and be off in seconds - if he got back to the van. If not - well, on foot he could disappear into almost any of the myriad of buildings. If they were typically stupid, they'd come in in swarms, hunting him. Then all he'd need was one of them not paying attention. If they were smart, they'd just wait at the exits. He'd have to come out at some point. But with Lynch in charge, he wasn't worried.

He sighed. Thinking about everything except what he should be. Like Richter and tap-dancing around all the things he didn't know. All the things Hannibal didn't know. Making sure he got the information he needed from Richter. Making sure the doc didn't get the wind up and cut off all contact with Murdock. Tricky, when he had no idea what Murdock had told Richter. Or anyone else.

Then getting hold of that damn file. He had no choice there. One way or another, he'd have to get access to Murdock - wherever the hell they had him now. Hannibal didn't even know if Murdock had read the whole thing. How much would have sent him over the edge, anyway? He'd seemed okay when they dropped him off. Well, not 'okay' okay, but...

Shit. Hannibal tried to think how that file had been organized. At what point would it have been too much? The intake? The medical? The notes from Arnhold or Green?

Like it mattered. He had to get the file so Murdock couldn't finish reading it, couldn't re-read it, whatever. He had to get it before it fell into the wrong hands. Again.

His hand on the door, he hesitated. There was one thing he hadn't thought about. One thing he'd circled, touched on, but never thought about by itself. And it was the thing that was really the most important.

Murdock.

He stepped back from the door, looking out across the lawn, toward the street. What if Murdock couldn't come back from this one? This, the latest "major setback". How many setbacks had there been now? Each time, he'd come back. Sometimes fast, sometimes... but he'd always come back. And it had been a long time since the last one. He was stronger now. Hell, someone really crazy couldn't have put together this whole quest to find Face.

Except he hadn't been looking for Face. He'd been looking for Kyle. He'd been looking for a guy to tell him about a man he knew was dead. Whose death he'd accepted. It was the circumstances he couldn't deal with.

That's what he'd thought, anyway.

Hell, that's what they'd all thought. And he'd held together, all that time on the road, all that time running on one wild goose chase after another, one blowup after another. Yeah, he'd gotten a little loopy now and then. But... but he'd been handling it.

Until they found Kyle. And Kyle suddenly wasn't Kyle.

It had all been downhill after that. Hannibal knew it. BA knew it. They should've done something sooner. Should've gotten Murdock back here faster. Should've paid closer attention. To everything.

Should've never let him even know about that fucking file.

If Hannibal had had his brain somewhere other than up his ass, he'd have called Richter, put Murdock on a plane and let the guys in white pick him up at the airport. That's what he should've done. Yeah, it would've been tricky, with all the uproar, but he should've figured out a way. He should've done whatever it took to take care of his man.

He shouldn't have let him stay.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Hannibal jerked upright. A nurse was standing next to him, frowning.

"Sir?"

"Yes, yes, thank you. I'm fine. Just, uh..." He nodded toward the door. "My nephew..."

She smiled sympathetically.

"I understand, sir. It's hard, at first. But rest assured, he's getting the best of care here."

He nodded and watched as she stepped through the door, giving him another encouraging smile.

Best of care. He couldn't dispute that. All the more reason he should've...

Shit. Who was he trying to kid? Murdock would never have gotten on that plane. He would never leave Face.

Hannibal straightened up, walked through the door, stepped up to the desk. Sat in the chair in the hall, waiting while they paged Dr Richter. Stared at the wall.

He'd been strong.

He had been strong.

Until Face came back from the dead.


	8. Chapter 8

**October 17 1976 - 10 Days**

Hannibal did not like offices. During his career he'd been in many - had many himself, but spent as little time in them as possible. Even in Nam, he went out of his way to make his office more of a meeting room because he hated sitting behind the desk. Now, settling into the chair in Richter's office, he realized he hated sitting in front of a desk even more.

He also realized Richter was staring somewhat suspiciously at him

Damn. Well, a lot of men dyed their hair. He forced himself to match Richter's stare with a hint of belligerence. Richter had the grace to look embarrassed.

"I'm glad you were able to come so quickly, Mr Bradley, although I was surprised." A gentle reminder that Hannibal should have called first.

"Yeah, well, I had a chance to get away and took it. Guess I was too worried about Murdock to even think about calling."

"That's something I'd like to clarify first." Richter casually put on a pair of glasses and picked up a file folder. Hannibal tensed before realizing this one was in much better shape than the one he was looking for. "The last time you visited Murdock was September twenty-fifth. Three days later, he, uh, left the facility."

Hannibal started tensing up again. The thought floated by that Richter had had more than enough time to call Lynch while Hannibal was waiting to be shown in.

"Murdock returned the day before yesterday, and yesterday you called. In that entire three weeks between, we didn't hear from either of you." Richter was looking at Hannibal now. How could he stay so expressionless? "Coincidence, Mr Bradley?"

The best defense is a good offense. "Look, I don't know what tall tales my nephew has been spinning, but - "

"Actually, he's been spinning some skyscrapers, Mr Bradley. And they've tended to crash into each other. One moment he says you were with him during those three weeks..."

Hannibal could almost feel his heart sinking.

"... and the next, that you weren't within a hundred miles of him."

Hannibal sighed - it might sound like resignation to Richter, but it was pure relief.

Richter sat up straighter. "I'd appreciate knowing which it was."

Hannibal hesitated only a moment. There was no way he could admit being with Murdock. Richter would want details, reasons for Murdock's slide into hell. Hannibal couldn't tell him those details. With a small prayer that it wouldn't hurt Murdock's recovery, he pulled out his most regretful voice.

"I was nowhere near my nephew, Doc. I had told him - and it was my fault for not making sure you knew as well - that I was going on a movie shoot for three weeks. On location. Very remote area. He was a bit upset about that - he likes to be able to call if I can't come visit - but I never thought..." Hannibal shook his head, staring at the floor.

Waited.

"Movie shoot?"

"Uh, yeah." Hannibal chuckled, hoping he sounded convincingly embarrassed. "I've done a little acting here and there, and this buddy of mine set it up. It was a decent sized role, and I'm not getting any younger, you know. Uh, that's why the dye job." Hannibal got serious again when Richter just kept looking at him. "Well, anyway, I took the chance, and like I said, I thought Murdock had let you know."

"And you say he was upset about this?"

"Well, maybe more like disappointed." Tread carefully now. Don't make matters worse.

Richter was looking at his file again. Hannibal glanced at the clock, the soft ticking sounding like a damn rifle going off.

God, he hated offices.

Richter looked up. "I'm not sure what to tell you, Mr Bradley. I don't want you to feel any responsibility for this, but I'm afraid the timing of your 'shoot', coming so soon after the death of..." he glanced down at his notes, "Mr Parish..."

"That was... unfortunate, I agree. But - "

"Well, based on the things Murdock said during my interview with him, I'm afraid it may go deeper than you might realize. There's his 'investigation' into that friend of his. Lieutenant Peck?"

Hannibal could smell the skunk coming a mile away.

"I understood that was taken care of."

"Oh, the letters stopped. But I don't think his... obsession did." Richter suddenly slid the file away, the frustration clear on his face. "I don't know where Murdock went during those three weeks. Not physically. But I think, up here," Richter jabbed a finger toward his head, "up here, he went looking for this lieutenant. And he found him."

Hannibal hoped his reaction wasn't showing, because he was in freefall. Not from Richter's words - but from what Murdock must have told him to make him believe that.

"So, uh, what... what makes you say that, Doc?"

"That interview." Richter shook his head. "It was very hard to follow. He seemed to be mixing up events from Vietnam with things that had occurred stateside. When or where - or even if - any of it actually happened, I have no way of knowing. But what he described - I can't believe anyone could make that up. Not with the amount of detail he had. No, what he was describing happened - to someone. He claims it was a fellow named Phil Johnson."

From the look on Richter's face, Hannibal knew what some of those details must have been. He almost hated to ask the next question.

"And now what do we do?"

"Obviously this delusion has to be addressed. Murdock carries some deep guilt feelings about Peck; why, I don't know. But that's going to be the root of his problems, I'm sure. But the immediate problem is his behavior this morning."

"What happened this morning?" Nothing good, obviously.

"He woke up this morning, raising a fit because he wasn't in his old room. Demanding to know why he'd been moved and accusing the nurses of having drugged him to 'sneak' him into the secure ward." Richter looked directly at Hannibal now, and the sympathy in his eyes only made Hannibal more nervous. "He doesn't seem to have any memory of the last three weeks. Oh, bits and pieces, but he swears that he's been here the entire time."

Thankfully, Richter allowed Hannibal time to digest that information, because Hannibal was having a hard time not grinning with relief. He should've known Murdock would come up with something 'special' to cover his ass. Hell, maybe that whole breakdown was just a cover. Maybe he hadn't even read that file...

"Mr Bradley?"

"He really doesn't remember?" Sound suitably concerned now.

"The anger and frustration he exhibited this morning - I've seen his 'displays', Mr Bradley, as I'm sure you have. I'm satisfied that the memory loss is genuine. Something traumatic definitely occurred during his absence. People simply do not choose to forget ordinary or pleasant events."

Hannibal's relief faded; Richter wasn't a fool. What if Murdock wasn't pulling an act?

"The things he said happened during this time he was missing - could any of it be true?" Walking on fucking eggshells here. Just what had Murdock told him?

"As I said, there are bits and pieces he remembers, and they do match some of the things he said before the memory loss. Then again, that could be a continuation of his delusion, rather than actual memories. But it's obvious that he went somewhere for some reason, and that he had help doing it. He's mentioned at least two men. Unfortunately, not by name."

Thank you, God.

"That's where I'm hoping you can help me. We keep a visitor's log, and I was wondering if you could look at the names of the people who came to see Murdock, see if any of them are familiar to you. Also, if you could think of any old Army buddies he might have been keeping in touch with - people who would be willing to help take him out of here. If we can locate these men, we'd get at least some answers."

"I'm sure you would, Doc."

"Of course, we'd keep their involvement confidential - as long as no laws were broken." Richter suddenly looked directly at him, and Hannibal had the disquieting feeling Richter wasn't totally buying anybody's story.

"I'll see what I can come up with, Doc."

"I'd appreciate that. The other thing I'd like to ask - and I don't know if you could do anything or not - is to see if you can find out any more about this thing in Alabama."

Hannibal swore his heart stopped.

"Alabama?"

"Yes, those Army officers who were here kept saying something about some mess in Alabama. Supposedly to do with those fugitives again. I thought that had been laid to rest as well, but apparently not. They wouldn't tell me any details, and I'm quite sure as long as Murdock is my patient, they won't. But if you could use some of your military contacts..."

"You think Murdock was in Alabama?"

"Of course not. But he may have heard something about it through these other men, or from someone he met while he was gone, and the news triggered something. I know, it's clutching at straws, but - "

"No problem, Doc. I'll see if I can find out anything. Can't guarantee it - you know how the Army's been about that bunch."

"Yes, well... At any rate, I can have you shown to Murdock's room. No more than a half-hour, I'm afraid; he's too unstable yet. But if you can get any more information out of him - anything at all - it could help bring back his memory."

"Sure, Doc. At the least, he'll know I'm here for him again."

*****

He shut the door carefully, deliberately, and locked it. He resisted the urge to unlock it, to check it, lock it again. He had to quit doing that. It was stupid. Like a lot of things he'd been doing.

Stupid.

He backed away from the door, jamming his hands into his pockets, and turned to look out his window. The porch roof to his right, to the grassy stretch of yard, to the woods beyond... This was his world now and he had to get used to it. Couldn't let things get to him. Had to focus. No more letting his guard down.

No more telling... things.

A flash - the smoke, the smell, the scream - then gone. He swallowed, hard, fighting back the shudders. No. No more. He'd given them an opening, allowed them to come out. He couldn't do that again. No. He needed to stay here, needed to stay with Hannibal and BA. Couldn't do that if he said things like that. If he told them...

They knew too much already. Things they never should have known. He didn't know how they found out, but they knew. They knew...

A door shut downstairs. BA. All that furniture, waiting. Waiting where those men had left it.

Those men...

Why would they say that? Had they known, somehow? Was there something about him? Was that why Harry - 

No.

It wasn't him. It was the war. It was Harry. He knew that. He knew that. Anything else didn't matter.

So why had he told BA he wasn't... wasn't a...

To make sure.

Make sure BA knew.

That's all.

Make sure BA knew.

*****

If he closed his eyes, he could be in another place. Another time. Different, yet the same. A man, one on each side, their steps unconsciously in cadence, softly echoing on the hard linoleum floors. No expression on their faces; just doing their job. If he slowed, they slowed. If he sped up, just a little, they sped up. A soft cough. Reminding him. Not too fast. Too fast made them nervous. And then they arrived. The sound of the keys, jangling gently against each other, one fitting neatly into the lock. A click. The door swinging open. The man with the keys stepping back, the other - he could see it even though the man was behind him - looking cautiously to either side.

And then he was inside.

Not a cell. Not Fort Bragg. Not the Army.

Not him.

No. Not him.

"Murdock."

No response. Not at first. Hannibal waited. He was about to speak again when Murdock slowly turned around on the cot and looked over his shoulder, frowning. Not angry. Thoughtful.

"Hannibal?"

Hannibal stiffened, then relaxed, just a little. He didn't think these rooms were bugged, and at least Murdock was talking. That was, apparently, an improvement.

"Yeah, Murdock." He stepped closer, spoke softly. "You better call me Tyrone, okay?" He nodded toward the door.

Murdock frowned again, then straightened. Nodded. Hannibal relaxed a bit more. Maybe Richter was wrong. Maybe... Then Murdock spoke again.

"What're you doing here?"

Hannibal sighed, sitting on the cot beside Murdock.

"I spoke with Doctor Richter. He said you're having... difficulties."

Murdock flushed and looked away. "I don't know what happened, Han - Tyrone. I haven't... I mean... I've been good for a long time. I don't know why..." he turned and looked, deadly serious, at Hannibal. "It's not that big a deal. He didn't have to call you. I'm okay now."

An act? Playing to whoever might be outside the door?

"It is a big deal, Murdock. And we - you and I - have to figure out some way to help you work through this." He leaned closer, speaking softly. "Without Richter finding out about the team. About... Face."

This time when Murdock frowned, there was no confusion or thoughtfulness. He was angry.

"I would never tell Richter about you guys! And why should I tell him about Face? Face is... he's..." Murdock turned his back to Hannibal. "It doesn't matter. It's over. I'm okay now."

Hannibal sat very still. Murdock thought Face was dead now? Didn't know they'd found him? Surely he wouldn't block that out? Just how much had he forgotten?

"Murdock, what's the last thing you remember? Clearly?"

Murdock looked down, one hand rubbing back and forth, back and forth over his knee.

"Murdock?"

"I remember having lunch. Lasagna. They used fake cheese in it, though."

"When was that, Murdock?"

His hand never stopped moving. Back and forth.

"I don't know. Musta been yesterday. Haven't had lunch today yet."

"What about before that?"

The hand was moving a little faster now.

"That was..." He stopped and glared at Hannibal. "So I can't remember exactly. Okay?"

"Do you remember Wiley's funeral?"

"Hell, yes, I remember Wiley's funeral!" Murdock suddenly stood, pacing the small room. "You think I'd forget something like that?"

"What happened after the funeral, Murdock?"

"Oh, lots happened." His tone was derisive, angry. "We sat around and had a few beers and then... and then I came back here. No!" He turned, waving his arms. "I came back to my room. My room! Not this place! I want my room back!"

"We'll talk about that later. Now, who was at that little get together after the funeral?"

"You know who was there." His voice was still sullen, but softer.

"Who was there?"

Murdock sighed, closing his eyes tight. "You, me, Ray and the big guy." He looked at Hannibal, defiance practically radiating from him. "Satisfied?"

"What did we talk about?"

"We talked about Wiley! What else?"

"That was my next question."

Murdock opened his mouth, but no words came out. He whirled around, began pacing again.

"I want my old room back."

Hannibal sighed. "I'll talk to the doc. If - " he cut off Murdock's sudden grin - "if you try, really hard, to answer my questions."

For a moment, Hannibal thought he'd lost the bluff, as Murdock abruptly sat on the cot, sweeping his cap off and tossing it across the room.

"Fine. Ask away."

Not the greatest attitude, but Hannibal was willing to settle. He had to.

"You remember telling us about Face after the funeral?"

"Yeah."

"And you remember we started checking around, trying to find Kyle Hanson?"

"Yeah."

"And then what happened, Murdock?"

Murdock looked straight ahead, a small frown forming.

"We... we went looking for him. For Kyle."

"Did we find him, Murdock?"

Murdock once again stood and paced. But more slowly.

"Murdock? Did we find Kyle Hanson?"

"Well, hell, yeah! 'Cause I'm back here, right?" Murdock looked over his shoulder at Hannibal. The words were angry, his face was bleak. "Right?"

Hannibal stood, slowly, and stepped close. Spoke softly.

"We didn't find Kyle Hanson, Murdock. Who did we find?"

Murdock shook his head, slowly.

"Do you remember anything about that trip? Anything at all?"

"I remember... running for the van... and thinking... I'd blown it, 'cause I wasn't supposed to draw attention, but I wanted to get going and so, I ran. And I jumped in the van, and BA peeled out - he likes to do that, y'know." Murdock smiled. "He really likes that."

"Yeah, he does." Hannibal smiled briefly. "What do you remember next? What else happened on our trip?"

Murdock closed his eyes, head back. Then his shoulders slumped, and he shook his head again.

"I don't know, Hannibal. There's all kinds of pictures running around in there, but they just... they just don't make any sense."

"What kind of pictures? People? Places?"

"I don't... yes. No. They're... they're just all jumbled up. They don't make any sense!"

Hannibal glanced at his watch. Richter had given him a half-hour. It was almost up.

"Murdock - "

"No more, Hannibal." Murdock shrugged away, flopping down on the bed. "I'm tired. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Forget my room. I don't care. I just want to sleep for a while."

Hannibal stood for a moment. He was tired himself. God, how he was tired. Nothing he would like more than to walk out, leave Murdock to his nap, let Richter take it from here. But there were still things he had to deal with.

Had to.

*****

The door closed behind BA a little louder than he'd intended. Despite his words to Face, he couldn't just let go. He'd wanted to throttle that son of a bitch within an inch of his life. Maybe, if the LT hadn't been there, he would have. He looked around at the furniture, piled high and wide around the room. Picked up a chair, set it down again.

If that had been Wiley, BA wouldn't have stopped him. He'd have gone right along with him. All the way to the brig.

If that had been the LT from Nam - if that had been the Face BA knew, he would've been pulling BA out of the fight. Hell, there wouldn't have been a fight 'cause Face woulda had those guys eating out of his hands.

The Face BA knew didn't like fights. Didn't like violence. Sounded stupid, a Special Forces soldier in Nam who didn't like violence. Even Hannibal liked a good fight now and then. Take that edge off. Not the LT. Almost nobody BA would rather have at his back in a fight, but Face didn't get off on it.

He looked up at the stairs and shook his head, picking up the chair again, looking absently for a place to put it. No, Faceman didn't like the violence. He liked out-thinking the other guy, doing the job better than the next guy. Liked proving he was better than the other guy.

He set the chair down again. That Face was gone now. Those bastards had taken all that away. Took away everything he was. Everything he thought he was.

Nothing worse than that.

*****

Hannibal waited, watching as Murdock very deliberately got comfortable on the bed, his back toward the colonel. He would have gladly let Murdock have his nap. His escape.

He knew what he should do. He should march right back to Richter's office and tell him the truth. Tell him where Murdock had been, what they'd done. About Face. It would mean never being able to see Murdock openly again. Maybe not at all. It was also the quickest way to end up in Leavenworth. Maybe have Murdock right there with him. With them all.

But that was the only way Richter could really help Murdock.

On the other hand, did Murdock have to remember everything? If Richter thought a lot of this was delusion, why not let Murdock think so as well? He would know that some of what he remembered was true, even if he couldn't admit it to Richter. But anything in that file would remain a delusion. It never happened. Not as far as Murdock was concerned. And Hannibal would lie through his teeth assuring him he'd never read it.

All he had to remember was that Face was alive. Hopefully before the two got together again.

"You still here, Colonel?" Murdock's voice was muffled in his sleeve, but the weariness in it was loud and clear.

"Captain, I need you to focus now. This is important."

A moment's stillness, then Murdock rolled over and sat up. Both men as serious as if they were discussing a mission in Nam.

"We have a problem, Captain. Not a new one. Balancing your treatment with the safety of the team. There are things that happened over the last three weeks that you need to deal with. But to do that, it could mean revealing things about me, about... the team."

"I would never - "

"I know you would never knowingly or willingly put us in jeopardy, Murdock. But you're going to need to focus very carefully when you're talking to Richter. He may or may not believe what you're telling him. I'll tell you quite frankly," and Hannibal hoped to hell he was doing the right thing now, "that Richter thinks a lot of what you've already told him is a delusion."

"But - "

"Listen, Captain. Listen. We can use that. Go with it. Because delusion or not, he's going to take what you tell him and see past it to the real issues. So let him. Understand, Captain? Let him think this Phil character is a delusion. You use Phil as a substitute for... for other people. He's your decoy, okay, Murdock? Whatever you're thinking, feeling about other people - you put that all on Phil. Can you do that?"

Murdock frowned, puzzled. "You mean, like... pretend?"

"Sometimes its okay to use someone or something imaginary when the real things are... confusing. Just for a little bit. Until you can handle the real things. Until you know how to handle the real things."

"So, like hating Wiley? Hate Phil instead."

Hannibal sat up, startled. Hate? Well, he'd felt that himself once. Now? Now didn't matter.

"Yeah, Murdock. Hate Phil instead. Until you're ready to put the hate aside."

Hannibal wasn't sure this would work. Murdock didn't look convinced, but finally he nodded.

"Okay, Colonel. Stick with my story - stick with Phil."

Hannibal relaxed, but only for a moment. One final hurdle. He glanced again at his watch. Had to hurry.

"Now, there's one other thing I need before I go, Murdock. When we dropped you off here, you had a file with you."

Murdock looked totally blank. "A file? What was in it?"

Hannibal at least had an answer ready for that. "Documents that could hurt the team, Murdock. Things we collected during our trip. Now I need to get that file so Richter doesn't find it."

Frustration filled Murdock's face. "How can I give you something I don't even remember having?"

"Just take it easy. You don't have to remember the file - just stop and think. Where do you put the things you don't want the staff to find?"

Murdock glanced around the room, shaking his head. "I know where I'd put it in my own room..."

"Okay, well, you weren't in your own room. So - you're in a different room. You know that at some point, you're going back to your old room. You need to hide this, but still be able to get at it without anyone seeing you." Hannibal looked around. No bathroom here. No closet. Murdock's duffel on top of a small bureau. "Would you have been able to sneak it out when they took you to the bathroom? Hide it there?"

"No way. No..." Murdock had closed his eyes, frowning. Hannibal realized he was trying to remember. Okay - remember where you put it, Captain - not what was in it. Please. Murdock's eyes snapped open. He practically leaped off the bed, grabbing Hannibal's arm and pulling him off as well. Smiling grimly, he raised the two mattresses, sliding his arm underneath. A little more groping and Murdock pulled out the battered folder, grinning triumphantly.

Hannibal could've cried.

"Good one, Murdock." He reached for it quickly as Murdock started to open it, immediately hiding it under his jacket.

Murdock looked at him, suspicion creeping into his eyes.

"Can't I look at it?"

Hannibal made a show of checking his watch. "No time now, Murdock. But believe me, there's nothing in there you need to see."

Nothing you need to remember.


	9. Chapter 9

**November 23 1976 - 1 month, 16 days**

The last two years they'd gotten Murdock out for Thanksgiving. The first year, just for the day; last year, Richter had let him out for the entire weekend. All things considered, it had gone pretty well. A few rough spots, not unexpected when putting BA and Murdock together. But Hannibal could safely say they had all been able to relax and enjoy themselves.

Hannibal had no idea what to do this year. As of last week, Murdock still hadn't remembered any details of their little excursion. Or so he said. Richter believed him, but Hannibal wasn't so sure. He'd managed one more trip up there, a couple weeks earlier, and Murdock stuck to his story. But there was something in the way he looked at Hannibal when he said it. Something almost... furtive. But suspicious at the same time.

Had Murdock started remembering? If he had, why didn't he want anyone, including Hannibal, to know?

Hannibal shook out of his reverie, glancing around as he realized he'd stopped in the middle of the block. Nothing like drawing attention to yourself. He resumed his walk, heading for the phone booth on the corner. Taking his stroll. That was the phrase he used whenever he walked down here. BA would know where to find him if he needed to, Face had no reason to wonder, and Hannibal had some privacy to check on Murdock.

And a breather.

He made sure that one of them was always with Face; not too close, of course, but close enough. But he also made sure that he and BA had time away as well. Those few days in the van, his own need to take that first trip up to LA - he realized some decompression was necessary if they weren't all going to end up in the nuthouse.

Face just locked himself up in his room.

Hannibal slid the door to the booth closed and waited, still not sure what he was going to do about Murdock. Couldn't have him sitting across the table from a ghost. Then again, if they all went along with it... No. He sighed. They'd pulled off some crazy schemes over the years, but that was way beyond imagining.

Wishful thinking.

Carefully, he put the coins in the slot. Why someone couldn't figure out an easier way of making long calls on these things, he'd never understand. Every week he had to remember to get enough change so they wouldn't be cut off mid-sentence. A little thing, really. Just another straw...

"Veterans Administration."

"Uh, Psychiatric Unit, please."

"One moment."

He counted the seconds, then minutes before the desk answered. Plopped more dimes in. Made his request.

"I'm sorry, Mr Bradley, Dr Richter isn't in today. He did leave a message for you, however. I was just getting ready to call you."

Not good.

"Let's have it." No one could mistake the resignation in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Mr Bradley." He knew this lady. Nice woman. "There was... an incident last night."

"What happened?"

The clerk sighed, loud enough for Hannibal to hear. "I'm afraid he got into an argument with another patient... they came to blows."

Shit.

"What was the argument about?"

Again the woman hesitated. "They were arguing about the amnesty."

"Amnesty? For the draft dodgers?"

"Yes, sir. It took us all by surprise. Captain Murdock suddenly started yelling at the other patient, saying something about giving amnesty to everyone. More words were exchanged and before anyone could intervene, Murdock was... well, sir, he was pounding on the man. That's the only way I can describe it."

Hannibal felt light-headed, leaning against the side of the booth. "The other man?"

"Bruised, but nothing serious. Physically. But - well, being attacked in a place you're supposed to be safe..."

"Understood." Hannibal rubbed his forehead. He could feel the throbbing start inside. "And Murdock?"

"I'm afraid he's in the security ward again, Mr Bradley. He'll be there for at least 24 hours, and, well, with everything else, Dr Richter just doesn't want him away from the hospital. I... I don't think you should plan on Christmas, either, sir. Not unless there's a significant change."

The throb was quickly moving in the direction of pounding. "I don't suppose I can talk to him..."

"I'm afraid not. The rules - "

"Yeah - that's okay, ma'am. I know the rules."

He walked even more slowly back to the house. Just as well Hannibal hadn't talked with him - he'd have gotten an earful of "colonel talk" and that wouldn't have been right at all. Murdock couldn't help it. That's why he was in the VA to begin with. And Hannibal could certainly understand the frustration that caused the fracas. Yeah. He could've told Murdock that - at least once he'd calmed down. Then Murdock would know someone understood - Richter couldn't. Not without knowing who 'Uncle Tyrone' really was.

It brought home just how alone Murdock was up there. Maybe if Hannibal could've found a place closer... but he had to look out for the rest of the team. And LA was no place for them. Not now.

The crunch of gravel under his feet stopped him. Woolgathering again. He stood for a moment, looking up at the trees that barely concealed the house. He sighed as BA came in sight, one hand hidden behind his back; that he was irritated to see Hannibal just standing there was obvious.

"Well?"

"Richter won't release him. So, just the three of us."

"He still ain't remembered?"

Hannibal shook his head. BA was of the opinion that Hannibal should just tell him Face was alive and safe and answer any questions with bare-bone facts only. Murdock would just have to learn to live with that. If it were only that simple. If Murdock was only that compliant...

"No, from what little they would tell me, he hasn't."

"What, Richter thinks bein with family would hurt?"

"Well, there were some other problems..." Hannibal lit a cigar, stalling for time. Face would be showing up soon, to see what was going on, putting an end to BA's questions.

"What other problems?" BA took a step closer, glancing back at the house. He knew exactly what Hannibal was hoping for.

"Murdock got into a fight. With another patient. So, he's - "

"Locked up again. That damn fool!"

BA jerked around and stalked up to the house. Hannibal stayed put for a few moments longer. He'd have to tell Face now, but that would be easy. Face didn't ask questions, didn't demand answers. Murdock wasn't coming. That would be all he'd want to know.

Sometimes Hannibal envied that detachment.

**December 10 1976 - 2 months, 3 days**

Murdock sat on his bed, looking suspiciously around his room. As far as he could tell, nothing was missing. Once he knew the staff had quit checking through that little window in the door, he'd launch a more thorough inspection. No point in making it obvious he didn't trust them. He was already in enough hot water.

Not that he'd gotten into any more fights; he hadn't even snapped at anyone the last few days. But he didn't feel like joining any of those stupid classes they had, and he sure as hell didn't feel like talking in the group sessions. Refusal of either was enough to label him a 'problem'; they didn't like 'problems' here. Patients were supposed to try, and Murdock was refusing to do that.

Why should he?

His world was filled with people he couldn't talk about, people he couldn't talk to, people who weren't there when he needed them to be...

And people he hadn't been there for when they needed him.

He glanced at the little window. No one had peeked in there for a long time now. He stood, waited, then moved slowly over to the door. Listened. Peeked through the window himself, out into the hallway. If he leaned far enough to the side, he could just see the clock.

Not quite eleven.

Tomorrow was Saturday. Hannibal was supposed to be coming. Like he looked forward to that. More questions from Hannibal. More evasions from him as well. Blaming it on Richter - "Oh, he wants you to remember on your own." Yeah, right.

Murdock moved over to his desk, started sorting through the drawers. At least all his photos were still there. He picked up the one of Face. Stared at it. What had Kyle told them about Face? He couldn't even remember finding Kyle. And Hannibal said they didn't. But he knew they'd found out about Face. He knew that. He just couldn't remember what they'd found out, or from who. He just knew they had. But...

Fuck.

How the hell was he supposed to remember when he had to keep switching Kyle with that damn Phil? Why the hell couldn't he just tell Richter about Kyle?

Because that would mean telling him about Alabama, and Hannibal didn't want Murdock to mention Alabama. Didn't want him to admit to being anywhere near Alabama. Like anything had happened there.

Well, something had happened there. Murdock knew it. He just couldn't figure out what. There were pictures in his head - but what was real and what was delusion? Richter thought most of what he told him was delusion. And when Murdock told Hannibal about them, he just got all... weird. Like he couldn't decide if he was happy or... nervous.

Nervous. That's what Hannibal was. All the time. Like he was afraid of what Murdock would remember.

Murdock moved back to the bed and flopped down. Hannibal wanted him to remember, Murdock knew that. Because Hannibal wanted Murdock to get better. He always had. But there was something else. And if Murdock were absolutely honest with himself, it was that something that kept him from remembering everything. Kept him from forcing himself to remember.

Because there was something Hannibal didn't want remembered.

**December 24 1976 - 2 months, 17 days**

He washed the plate and carefully inspected it; rinsed it thoroughly, again inspecting it; placed it softly in the rack by the sink. Found the next in the hot soapy water and repeated the process. Next he would do the saucers. Then the cups. Then the bowls. Last, the pans and silverware.

That was his routine. He never varied, because that meant he'd miss something. Just like he searched the house before he even started. Especially the porch. Hannibal had a habit of leaving his coffee cup on the porch railing in the evening. Search the house, stack the dishes, run the water (don't forget the soap), then wash. Plates, saucers, cups, bowls. Last, the pans and silverware.

He placed the frying pan carefully on the rack and dried his hands. He knew Hannibal was watching him. Depending on his mood, he'd either be smiling or frowning. Hannibal liked Face actually doing something besides sitting up his room; he didn't like the routine, the habits. But Face didn't care. He was paying his way, doing chores around the place, and if he had his own way of making sure it got done right, so be it.

Hannibal had never been easy to please anyway.

He took the dishcloth and started wiping down the counters. He was taking extra care today. Habit from the orphanage - always had to have everything spick and span anyway, but especially for the holiday. He hadn't worried about it for a long time, but now he had to make an effort.

Face had half-expected Hannibal to bring Murdock down from LA, but he just said the same thing again - Murdock wasn't ready. Sometimes Face wondered about that. One minute they were all together in the van and Murdock seemed okay. Now no one knew anything about him except what little Hannibal told them.

He looked around, noting that Hannibal was indeed watching him, and he didn't look away when their eyes met. No smile, but no frown either. He was studying him today.

That typically meant trouble. A discussion. A talk.

And BA wasn't here to create a diversion.

He glanced up at the clock. BA would be almost to Denver by now. His mother was meeting him there, at the home of some guy they'd known over in Nam. Face barely remembered him. He'd shipped out just after Face arrived, before Face even joined up with Hannibal. Hannibal had set it up, said BA needed some time with his family. Face just wondered if BA would come back. He'd said he would. That didn't mean anything. Hannibal always said that, too - but Face still waited to see if he would.

But it was just the two of them now. It made Face nervous. No matter how many times Hannibal - and BA as well - had told him what really happened after the robbery, he couldn't quite rid himself of the suspicions. He could understand why BA put up with him - Wiley. Nothing made a man feel worse than having his best friend turn out to be a bastard. But Hannibal?

Face may have blamed him, before he knew what happened. Before he accepted what happened. Not anymore. Right or wrong, the colonel had trusted Wiley, like he trusted all his men.

Most of them.

Face closed his eyes. Tight. It didn't matter why Hannibal was staying. His head couldn't deal with that shit today. No. Focus on today. Nothing else.

That was more than enough.

*****

Hannibal watched as Face finished up the dishes. He hadn't offered to help - he knew better. Ask for help and Face was right there, doing whatever he was told. Offer to help and he either got angry or went nearly catatonic. Lately, anger had been the typical response. It shouldn't surprise him. Things had been building up for a while now.

Face was trying very hard to fit in - too hard. At the same time, he was putting equal effort into evading any talk of what had happened to him, or what he expected to happen now. He would sit quietly, apparently taking in whatever information Hannibal would give him about the arrest and trial, about what they had done after the escape - but he would not, under any circumstances, talk about himself. Face would just walk away. Other times, BA would suddenly appear with some project he needed Face's help with. And that situation - BA and Face - was as frustrating as it was gratifying.

He wouldn't call it connecting. No way Face was ready or willing to do that. But they seemed to have formed some sort of alliance, which was a step in the right direction. At the same time, its purpose appeared to be thwarting Hannibal's rather awkward attempts to help Face deal with his... issues. And those had to be dealt with if they were going to get Face back.

He frowned when Face suddenly closed his eyes, turning his head slightly. Okay. He knew that look. The question was whether to push and see if he would talk about those thoughts or just let it go. Or maybe now was the time to see about that other thing. Hannibal glanced casually at his watch. They still had time to take it slow. It was only three miles.

He looked around the living room. BA had picked up a plaster Christmas tree while gassing up the van. It now sat on top of the television set, a foot high with gaudy decorations painted on it.

The guys had always gotten together for the holiday, but it was mainly because they had nowhere else to go. Decorations were unheard of and the idea of exchanging presents never came up. It was just a time they needed to be together. But when BA brought that thing home, Hannibal hadn't needed the accompanying glare. It was just another way BA was trying to help Face, and Hannibal would not spoil it. He kept his mouth shut.

But it had given him an idea.

"Colonel?"

Hannibal straightened. Smiled. Casual. Brush away the fact he'd been staring at Face without even realizing it. "I thought we'd go for a little drive."

"Drive?"

Have to be blind to miss the suspicion in that look.

"Yeah. You haven't really seen San Ysidro yet and with all the Christmas decorations..." Face still looked dubious. "When I was a kid, it was kind of a tradition, drive around looking at all the houses decorated up for the holiday. Thought you might enjoy that."

Yeah, the gears were clicking now. Would he let his doubts about Hannibal win over the need to fit in?

"Okay. Sure."

Hannibal smiled, ignoring the fact that the "Sure" was anything but. It was true, though. Face hadn't seen anything of the city itself in all the time they'd been here. A couple trips to the grocery store - disasters Hannibal would just as soon forget. Even if the second half of his plan didn't work, at least the kid would get out of the house for a while.

For almost an hour they drove, seemingly aimlessly. Hannibal did most of the talking, pointing out and commenting on various houses. Face would nod, smile now and then, or frown at some absurdly lavish display. Hannibal thought Face was starting to relax, and, shortly before midnight, put the second part of his plan into action.

He'd been gradually moving toward his destination, moving in a slowly shrinking circle around the address. Now he took a left and pulled up a block away. Face looked at him, frowning.

"We won't have much of a Christmas celebration, but I thought maybe we should do something." He smiled, got out of the van and slowly started walking down the street. A moment later he heard a door closing and footsteps behind him. He slowed more, allowing Face to catch up with him. Nothing was said as they made their way up the street, finally stopping in front of the building.

A Catholic church.

Hannibal knew this would be tricky. He wasn't sure at all how Face would perceive this gesture. He could've just asked him - but that would've made it too easy for Face to refuse, retreat into his room.

"I don't know how religious you are, kid, and frankly, I thought about this for a while. Maybe you don't feel comfortable attending any Mass, let alone this one. But I thought you should have the opportunity. If you want to."

For a moment, Face stood, watching a few stragglers hurrying into the church. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he turned back toward the van.

"Face?"

Face stopped, speaking so softly Hannibal could barely hear him.

"Thanks, but... it's not for me." He looked back at the church one more time. "Not anymore."

**December 31 1976 - 2 months, 24 days**

He jumped when the door upstairs slammed shut. Looking into the living room, he faced BA's angry glare.

"I did like I always do. He started to leave; I followed. He didn't like it."

"It's okay, BA. As long as that's all that happened, it's okay."

"Maybe for you." BA pushed his way past Hannibal and headed out to the garage, barely closing the outer door without slamming that himself.

Sighing, Hannibal walked slowly across to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was the third such incident since Christmas and it worried him. He hadn't forgotten about those incidents in Alabama - when 'Kyle' would disappear, coming back bedraggled and "embarrassed", as Jenny called it. And always coinciding with some fracas in a nearby town.

He took a sip from the cup, grimacing at the too-strong coffee. He hadn't ignored the timing of these episodes and that Christmas Eve trip, either. Neither man had spoken on the drive back to the house, and Face had gone directly to his room, not to emerge until late the next day. By the time BA got back the day after Christmas, Hannibal could practically count on one hand the number of words he and Face had spoken.

BA, of course, picked up on the tension immediately. While thrilled at visiting his mother, the twists and turns to get there, and then coming back to this, did nothing to maintain that feeling. Hannibal could see the alliance between the two men starting to unravel, as Face seemed less and less able to contain his...

His what? Anger? Frustrations? Or was it just the stress of being cooped up with BA and Hannibal for so long? Trying to keep up the facade, pretend he was adjusting, when in fact he was just putting on an act.

He heard the front door open and close - quietly. BA walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk. He stood for a moment, holding the carton, staring at it. Finally, he looked at Hannibal, his own frustration obvious.

"You gotta talk to him, and this time I ain't comin in between you two." He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I thought I was doin the right thing, but... well, he's gettin back the way he was when we found him. You gotta get him talkin now." BA scowled at the milk carton. "And he ain't gonna hide in his room, either. You go up and talk to him, and if he won't let you in... I'll open that door myself."

"I don't know if this is the best time, BA. He seemed pretty wound up already and - "

"And that's the time to do it, Hannibal. When he can't control things so good. That's the only time he's gonna let go. That's the only time he ever has."

Like it or not, Hannibal knew BA was right. And, like it or not, he knew the longer he waited, the more time Face would have to build up the defenses. Grimly, he set down his coffee cup and headed upstairs. He heard BA following, stopping a few steps from the top.

He stopped in front of Face's closed door. He no longer bothered trying the door first - Face always locked it. Several times. A habit he couldn't seem to break, though Hannibal knew he'd tried. Just as well. Barging in on him, like so many things, only caused 'problems'. Hannibal knocked gently but firmly on the door.

"Face? I need to talk to you."

Silence.

Hannibal knocked again, louder this time.

"Face, unlock the door."

He looked down at BA, who was already moving up the stairs. The two men looked at each other.

"He's not going to like this..."

"I know, Hannibal. I know."

One swift kick and the door flew open. No angry outburst greeted them. Alarmed, Hannibal stepped inside.

The window they had thought was too high for escape was wide open.


	10. Chapter 10

**December 31 1976 - 2 months, 24 days**

He'd just wanted to take a walk.

He hadn't intended to get into any trouble. Call it a strategic withdrawal. Go out into the woods, away from any people. Walk it off. Run it off. Rip apart some damn bush. Anything to cut off that feeling before it got too strong.

Damned if he was going to do that with an audience. Especially not them.

So it was really their own fault.

He thought he'd been doing okay. He had been doing okay. To last this long, hearing those voices yelling - screaming - and not let it get to him... Seeing Harry stare at him from the woods and not go off the deep end... All this time without taking a swing at someone...

That was pretty fucking good.

Hannibal didn't seem to think so. Kept wanting to dig into things that were none of his business. Digging and digging, until sometimes it was hard for Face to remind himself why he stayed. Hard to remember the debt... He felt a twinge of guilt. If he was going to do this, he should just do it.

He stopped, looking back across the woods, the field, up at the open sky. Back at the house. He could still see the lights through the trees.

If Hannibal would just leave him alone, stop pushing. Like that church. Why the hell did he think Face would be welcome there? Would even want to go?

And BA. One thing to be there when Hannibal was pushing too hard. But why couldn't BA just give him ten minutes to himself without Face having to hide in that damn room to get it?

That room.

How he hated that room.

Every day it got smaller and smaller. And smaller. The walls, paper-thin. He couldn't keep the voices out. Every conversation, every word, every fucking noise came through. He would sit in there, trying to drown everything out, keep everything out. And just when he thought he had... the damn door would move. Not a lot. But he could see it. Could hear the knob turn. So quiet. So careful. He'd get up, ever so carefully, and step across the room. Watching for that fifth board. Every time he forgot and stepped on it, the fifth board squeaked. So he'd be careful, stepping across it, reaching for the knob, holding it tight while he checked the lock. Holding the knob tight while he turned it so slowly, so slightly, opening the door a mere slit to see who was out in the hall.

He knew who it was. Nobody else could be there one second and gone the next. Nobody else could slip past Hannibal or BA. Closing the door softly, then flinging it open, trying to catch him out in the hall. Never fast enough. Never quiet enough. But he knew who it was...

He straightened suddenly. The sound of a door banging open, slamming against the wall.

It hadn't been his intention to take off like this. He'd thought about that window many times. Leaning out, studying the porch roof, just out of reach. The ground below. When he knew no one was looking, he'd walked around beneath the window, checked for unexpected hazards. Even kicked a few rocks out of the way. Never thinking he would really use it. It was just good to know it was ready.

Then tonight... he'd really, really wanted to get away from them. He needed to get away from them. Just go out into the woods, alone. All alone. Work it out of his system, before it was too late.

But BA wanted to tag along. Yeah. Tag along. His keeper. And the anger at BA just made that... thing stronger. That feeling, like everything was dirty, or sick; like watching sick porno movies over and over. Like the whole world was filthy and he was stuck in it. Drowning in it. But it was more than that. Like there was nothing nice left. Hell, nothing left at all. And he was trapped in that nothing, that thick, sick nothing and the only way out was to destroy it. Destroy it or suffocate...

And he'd stared at the window as he leaned against the door. The door he'd locked and unlocked and locked again and felt the anger because he couldn't quit locking it, over and over and... and the next thing he knew he'd opened the window and slid out, dropping as silently as he could. Heading for the woods.

He hadn't intended to get into any trouble. But he saw the lights from the city and felt his heart beat just a little faster. A little louder. What could be better than a border town on New Year's Eve for getting rid of some pent-up... energy?

He looked back toward the house. There. Flashlights. Two of them, the beams slowly drifting over the ground under his window. Finding his trail.

He stood slowly, took a step back. He should go now. Just disappear into the woods, head into town, find some idiot to pick a fight with. Maybe find a car, take a drive...

He watched another moment. They'd come a few yards closer to the woods, then stopped. The lights bobbed around a bit, then went out. He waited, listening, cursing the breeze rustling the leaves. He needed to hear if they were talking. If they were coming, or just discussing whether or not they should. Whether or not they wanted to.

The longer he watched the dark woods below, the more incessant the thrumming inside him got, no matter how hard he tried to silence it. He glanced behind him, where the lights from the city glowed bright. So bright...

Where were they?

He crept further into the woods, trying to clear the noise. He couldn't hear his own steps now - how the hell would he know when they were coming?

And they would come. He'd realized that as he'd stood under the window, waiting to see if anyone had heard him. Hannibal could lie all he wanted, but Face knew. Murdock was in trouble, and it had something to do with Face. And that's why they'd come after him now, just like they'd come to Alabama. Murdock had started the whole thing. Whether it was guilt because he hadn't gone looking for Kyle back in the jungle, or some half-assed feeling of friendship with Face from before, Murdock had started it. So Hannibal was stuck with Face - had to keep Face on an even keel so Murdock could get better and get out of that place. As soon as that happened, Face was expendable again.

This was all about Murdock. Always had been.

That's when the idea had come to him. He still owed them, for the robbery. That was his fault, and he wouldn't forget that. But the days of subservience, the days of trying to fit into their world - those days were gone...

The flashlights came back on a little further into the woods. They'd lost his trail for a moment; not enough moonlight, too many trees. They were following fast now. Did Hannibal think Face was so far ahead of them he wouldn't see the lights? Or did he just not care, only intent on catching up? Dragging Face back to that house. That room...

He shook his head, moving quickly back into the woods. Unfamiliar terrain now; they hadn't come this far out during their little 'exercises'. That was okay. He was used to that. Knew how to deal with it. He didn't look back - he didn't care anymore. He was focused on the lights. The city. The people...

A border town on New Year's Eve. Full of targets, just waiting for him.

He grinned as the thrumming inside grew.

Let the games begin...

*****

Hannibal took two seconds to indulge his futile hope Face was, of all things, hiding in the closet. Another two seconds to see if he somehow could have swung over to the porch roof, and was sitting there with a cat-ate-the-canary grin. BA was halfway down the stairs before Hannibal turned from the window. Moments later, Hannibal stood in the kitchen, checking his flashlight. He frowned when BA checked the clip in his pistol.

"You don't need a gun, BA."

"Maybe, maybe not. But you want him to get the jump on us like he did back at that truck stop?"

"I don't think - "

"Yeah, maybe that's your whole problem, Hannibal."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

BA glared over at him as he jammed the clip in place.

"I mean if you'd'a been thinking instead just going along for the ride, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe you'd'a seen he was getting more and more wound up. Maybe you woulda found somethin for him to do besides pacing around in that damn room. Maybe you'd'a found somethin for all of us to be doin besides sitting around waitin for the next blowup." BA shoved past, letting the screen door slap shut behind him. His voice floated back from the darkness outside. "You comin or not?"

With a set to his jaw that bode no good for either of his men, Hannibal grabbed his jacket and strode out into the backyard. BA was already shining his light under the window.

"Looks like he took off for the woods, all right."

Hannibal followed the tracks in the damp grass with his own light. Face must have been in one hell of a hurry; a blind man could follow that trail. Well, he probably was in a hurry. He knew damn well what would happen when they discovered he was gone. He could lose them easily once he was away from the house. If he wanted to lose them. He turned to BA, caught sight of the pistol stuffed in his waistband.

He assumed Face was heading for the woods, planning on losing himself in the wilderness. But maybe BA was right. He'd been doing too much assuming, not enough thinking. And Face had been pissed off royally this time. Who knew what he might be planning? Or if he was even thinking. Maybe that 'blind man's trail' was deliberate.

He took another look at the pistol, glad BA had the grace to look uncomfortable when he caught the glance. They'd take it slow and cautious at first, until Hannibal had some idea what Face was really up to. No point causing a ruckus unless they had to.

With a nod at BA, he started toward the woods. The going was easy at first, then as the trees blotted out the moonlight, the going got harder. It didn't matter how good the flashlights - they couldn't pick up everything. And Hannibal couldn't help the feeling Face was out there, watching. What else he planned on doing was anybody's guess.

They moved a few yards further in and the trail disappeared. BA moved up beside Hannibal, both slowly scanning the ground and lower branches. Almost in sync, they turned off their flashlights and stood, silent, listening. Other than the slight rustle of leaves from the soft breeze, the forest was silent.

"He's close." BA's voice was as soft as the breeze. "Ain't nothing moving."

Yeah. That was it. Shouldn't be this quiet. There should be animals scurrying out of their path. Night birds taking flight.

Yeah. He was close.

Hannibal flipped on his flashlight and moved forward slowly, looking for anything that wasn't the way it should be. BA walked a few feet to his side, slowly swinging his flashlight in a wide arc. They'd either find his trail or make themselves easy targets.

And then it came, echoing through the trees, between the hills. An almost defiant shout. It only lasted a moment, followed by the distinct sound of someone running through the brush somewhere far ahead of them, caution obviously tossed to the wind.

Hannibal didn't know what spooked him more - the brashness of the shout, or the pure joy that was in it.

*****

"We're never gonna find him. You know that."

BA didn't know if Hannibal was deliberately ignoring him or if he was too intent on checking out the guys outside the bar. But then he'd been staring at the bar for the last ten minutes. BA wasn't sure Hannibal was even seeing it anymore. He tried again.

"How you know he didn't just sneak into Mexico instead?"

"Border patrol is out in full force tonight. He'd never make it."

"It's a shit piece of wire, Hannibal. Guy'd have to be comatose not to make it across that."

"He's not going to Mexico."

"How you know that?"

Hannibal didn't answer for a long time. But then he sighed and looked BA head on.

"He won't go to Mexico because he wouldn't have any reason to come back if he did."

"What d'you mean, no reason to come back? You think he wants to come back?"

"Yeah. He may not realize it, but he does. And if he goes to Mexico, he'd be free and clear of the cops and the Army - and us. He could lose himself down there."

"And that's why he won't go? Hannibal, that don't make any sense!"

Hannibal shook his head, pulling out a cigar and calmly lighting it.

"Think about it, BA. Remember how Jenny described him when he first showed up there? What he was like when we first moved down here?"

"Like I'd forget."

"Now he has a comfortable shelter, clean clothes, gets three squares every day - you really think he wants to go back to living like some kind of wild thing again? Living in filthy clothes, rarely getting a meal that isn't road kill, dealing with the elements? He may not like the company, but he's taken care of now. And he doesn't have to worry about getting beaten up or drugged or... or anything else. He doesn't have to deal with anything he doesn't want to. Right now, he wants that more than he wants his freedom."

"Well, if he's gonna come back, then what the hell are we - "

"We are making sure he doesn't get himself arrested, beaten up, or killed. That's why we're looking for him, and when we find him, if none of those things have yet happened, we are going to haul his sorry ass back to the house." The edge was back in Hannibal's voice, and he straightened in his seat. "We've been looking in the wrong places, BA. He's not going to want to mess with a bunch of drunken locals and wetbacks. He'll go for something more... challenging."

BA closed his eyes and shook his head before putting the van in gear. He pulled quickly into traffic, heading north toward Imperial Beach.

And the Navy's auxiliary air base.

*****

There were plenty of cops on the streets that night, but Hannibal had BA drive past any place that only had one or two sets of flashing lights parked in front of it. That was the kind of thing Face would've done back in Alabama, with a few yokels and the county sheriff around. But Face had been 'complacent' too long now, and if his hunch was right about that Naval station, Hannibal was looking for one hell of a donnybrook. And it didn't take long to find it.

Up ahead it looked like a Fourth of July extravaganza - red and blue flashing lights combined with the high-powered searchlights illuminated the otherwise dark street. Had to be five or six patrol cars already. He looked at BA, who silently pulled the van down a side street and parked it.

"Where do we start, Hannibal? He could be anywhere in that mess."

"They'll be holding the ones they've caught along the street there someplace. We'll check for them first. After that... hell, just look for the biggest bunch of cops."

BA shot him a look that spoke volumes and got out of the van. With a nod, they split up, Hannibal taking one side of the street, BA the other. Whichever one found Face first would let out the shrill whistle they'd used in Nam - no way they could miss that signal. Of course, Face would recognize it as well, which may or may not be a good thing. Hannibal figured they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. At the moment, he had enough to do, working his way through the ever-growing throng of fighters, cops, onlookers... and the Shore Patrol.

As soon as Hannibal saw the first one, he knew he was getting close to the real action. He tried to look across the street, find BA, but there were too many gawkers and random fights breaking out. Hannibal wondered how many of these guys even knew why they were fighting. He shouldered his way forward, ducking away from a few drunken swings as he did. A row of people sitting along the front of a store with police standing guard over them. He looked at the faces quickly, knowing Face wouldn't be there.

No way he'd be sitting quietly.

Then he saw the epicenter. A semi-circle of cops and Shore Patrol, slowly - and none too gently - working their way through a crowd of sailors and civilians, none of whom were surrendering quietly. He saw, almost immediately, a blond head - and then another, and another. No way he'd be able to pick out his quarry without getting right into the mix.

He stepped back and let loose with the whistle. The people around him jumped and glared, but he paid no attention. Seconds later he heard the whistle come back to him. He moved toward it and a few minutes later, he spotted BA, bloody lip and all.

They'd probably both look a lot worse before this was over.

*****

In the world of worst case scenarios, BA figured he'd found himself close to the number one slot. The only thing keeping him out of that slot was the fact he'd just hit a guy from the Shore Patrol instead of an MP. Shaking his head, he continued to slug his way through the crowd, not caring who went down ahead of him.

He'd given up watching out for Hannibal. He could take care of himself - he'd have to, because BA couldn't fight for both of them. He didn't even know if Hannibal had seen the LT yet. BA had and he wasn't letting him out of his sight. He wasn't sure what would happen when he actually got to him - but it wasn't going to be pretty.

Another cop went down, and two other guys - sailors or civilians BA neither knew nor cared. Someone grabbed his arm and he swung on him. Only Hannibal's quick duck saved him from sleeping on the pavement. BA glared at him before nodding toward Face.

"Yeah, I see him. Now let's get him out of here before - "

Hannibal ducked another punch coming from left field. BA took it on the jaw instead and staggered back as Hannibal rammed his elbow into the guy's stomach.

"Come on!" BA shoved the guy out of the way and lumbered forward.

They were within a few feet now, and the slugfest was getting more and more intense. BA could only catch a glimpse of Face now and then. Bloody and bruised, but still swinging away like a...

"BA!"

He looked at Hannibal, who had to shout to be heard only a foot away. Hannibal motioned him to go to the left while Hannibal went right. Yeah, don't let the LT see them coming at him together. Let him concentrate on just one, while the other... Yeah, and BA knew who was supposed to get seen first.

He waited long enough for Hannibal to get on Face's blindside before taking the bull by the horns. Shoving, pushing, slugging, he was like Moses parting the sea. He grabbed the last sailor between him and his target, stopping the man in mid-swing. Slamming him to the side, taking out at least two other guys, he turned to look at Face. It took a split second before recognition came into Face's eyes. Long enough for the shock to hit BA.

He had never seen the LT so... happy.

**January 5 1977 - 2 months, 29 days**

Hannibal looked at his watch, then down the hall. Face was still asleep, as far as he could tell. He and BA had decided to let the painkillers wear off today, deciding he'd had enough healing time. How the man had stayed on his feet at all New Year's Eve was beyond Hannibal's understanding. Pure adrenalin couldn't possibly account for it. Only after BA had gotten him in a bear hug and squeezed the daylights out of him as they pushed and shoved their way out of that riot had he finally passed out. Hannibal didn't know if the cracked ribs came from that or the fight, and BA made no bones about not caring. More than a few of his own bruises came from their lieutenant.

The route back to the van had been... interesting. They'd headed for the nearest side street, leaving a big impression on the Shore Patrol and the cops, whose numbers seemed to grow exponentially - as did their determination not to let anyone involved in the fight go their merry way.

How the trio managed to get to the van and drive away without at least one of them ending up in lockup, Hannibal would never understand. He could smile about it now - what they must have looked like, hauling a limp and bloody body between them, trading off hanging on to him while they pummeled the next guy in line, practically tossing the body between them...

Yeah, he could smile now, sitting in the cramped living room of their apartment, far from the sirens and lights and screaming headlines of the following morning's paper. And he had no doubt that their descriptions had been slowly making their way through the military's grapevine. You didn't take that many sailors out and not get remembered. So, after dealing with their own injuries, Hannibal ministered to their errant lieutenant's while BA had packed the van. Dawn was just making its presence known when they pulled out of the driveway for the last time, heading north for the relative anonymity of LA.

They'd bounced from motel to motel the first couple of days until they'd finally felt safe enough to find an apartment. Cheap and not exactly clean, but the landlord didn't ask questions and rented by the month. They'd put Face in one bedroom, filled with as much over-the-counter painkiller as they thought was safe, and then looked at the one remaining bed.

"Well, I do have the birds, Sergeant." Hannibal grinned, almost hoping BA would actually fall for it. Instead, BA smiled back smugly as he pulled a quarter from his pocket, flipping it in the air.

Hannibal had settled for the couch philosophically. There were times to pull rank and times to remember BA's penchant for punching officers.

He looked up at the sound of a soft moan coming from the bedroom. BA stepped out of the kitchen, glancing first at the bedroom door, then at Hannibal.

"Give him another few minutes - or groans. Then I'll go talk to him."

"Yeah. You talk to him good, Hannibal. I ain't doin this again."

Hannibal had heard that a number of times over the past couple of days, and it didn't set any better now than it had the first time. But Hannibal had to agree with him. They couldn't go on waiting for the next blowup. And thinking back to the lambasting BA had given him when Face first took off, he also knew he had to come up with some kind of plan. Something that involved more than sitting around, trying to make Face talk about things he clearly had no intention of talking about.

Besides, they'd lost a good deal of money now, leaving that house and all the furnishings behind. Another two or three months and one of them would have to have gotten a real job. Now...

He stared down at the magazines in front of him. BA hadn't liked it one bit when he'd seen them on the coffee table; Hannibal didn't like the idea himself. He'd picked them up at a whim, never seriously thinking they'd go back to being mercenaries. They'd done it before, and, as Wiley had said then, it was what they knew. But the idea of fighting someone else's wars still didn't appeal to Hannibal. Then again, maybe it was whose wars they fought...

He looked at the bedroom door as another groan came forth, and shook his head. He could understand wanting to blow off steam, but... it was more than that. Something Ralph had told him, back at the farm. Everything Face did, no matter how weird or dangerous - it was all about control. Not being the victim. Fighting back.

He picked up the magazines and tossed them in the trash as he headed for the bedroom. Yeah. Maybe there was something they could do, together, that would bring in some money - and something more. Fighting wars for the right people. And kill two birds with one stone.

He smiled.


	11. Chapter 11

**January 5 1977 - 2 months, 29 days**

Murdock stood in front of the mirror, tilting his head one way, then the other, twisting the hand mirror until he could see the back of his head. He frowned.

The problem, he decided, was the transients. The people who came, stayed a while, left - and then came back. Like Joe. Joe was one of those guys who noticed everything and forgot nothing. He should've just gone home and stayed there. Then he wouldn't have noticed Murdock's hair or made that remark. And then Murdock wouldn't be listening to all kinds of theories as to why his forehead was "suddenly" getting longer.

He looked at the mirror straight on and stuck out his tongue. Who cared, anyway? He hadn't really noticed it until Joe brought it up. Nobody else had either. And it wasn't that bad.

Yet.

He slumped down on the bed. He didn't mind. Really. It was more having to deal with all the attention. All these guys coming up, sympathizing. A lot of them claimed it was Agent Orange. He didn't even want to go there. Not after... Other guys said it was all the medications they had him on. Considering he only took them occasionally, when Richter or one of the nurses got hinky, he didn't think that was it. And then there was the vitamin deficiency theory. Eating at the VA all the time, he didn't know how much merit that had to it.

He sighed. Someone once told him that guys who were bald in front were thinkers. So that was a good thing, right?

Face. Face had told him that. A long time ago, and they'd been talking about some other guy, but still...

He missed Face. Maybe they hadn't gotten along all that well, over there, but he'd been okay. And Murdock worried about him. Hannibal hadn't mentioned him during any of his visits. But that was Murdock's own fault, really. He hadn't told Hannibal he remembered that hospital. Remembered the rescue. Remembered the trip back to LA. Remembered all that.

Almost.

There were mix-ups, of course. He had to think about some of the stuff, try and figure out when, exactly, it had happened. And he wasn't always sure he'd gotten it right. Especially with having to keep his stories straight. One story for Richter, with its own set of fictional characters. Not letting him know some things, having to fill in the blanks with nonsense. Keeping track of the nonsense. And another story for Hannibal. The one that ended when their trip started. He couldn't tell Hannibal he remembered past that, even though Hannibal could straighten out all those mix-ups. Even though Hannibal wanted him to remember, tried to help him remember.

But there was something missing, something... gone. Something Murdock only knew he didn't want to ask about. Or have Hannibal bring up.

Something... very, very bad.

Richter sometimes asked about the 'dreams', as he called them. And some of the things Murdock had seen in them touched an alarm. Like he knew there was more to it. But that's as far as he wanted to take it. He allowed Richter, like Hannibal, like Murdock himself, to believe what he wanted.

None of that shit had ever really happened.

The noise from the hall brought him back to the present. Dinnertime, and everyone moving along the halls like automatons, headed for the cafeteria. Murdock waited. He preferred to go last on days like this. He could find a corner or table where he could eat his meal in peace. No stupid theories about his hairline, or dumb claims of controlling the weather, or other meaningless ramblings disturbing his digestion. Some days he could deal with that crap. Not today.

He stood again in front of the mirror, frowning. He grabbed his cap, his precious black cap from ages ago and jammed it on his head. Standing back, he took a last, critical look. Yeah. That was better. Much better.

He smiled, feeling his mood lifting. He strode to the door and swung it open, ready to face anything that was out there. He stopped for a moment, watching the last stragglers head for the cafeteria.

Yeah. Sure. He was ready.

For almost anything...

*****

The door swung open after the soft knock. He looked through half-open eyes as Hannibal stepped in, making no move to stop him. Earlier tries at getting out of bed had already proved there would be no point. Instead, he tried to stop the tremors, tried to appear uncaring, as he watched Hannibal come closer to the bed.

He was surprised when Hannibal stopped and pulled a chair over, sitting down slowly as if preparing for a long wait. Face watched him for another moment, apprehension turning to puzzlement. He remembered full well how the colonel had been... over there, when his men had let off steam a little too much.

But then, that was a long time ago, and Face wasn't his man anymore.

Hannibal's voice, soft when it came, still startled him.

"I'm afraid BA got a little 'exuberant' the other night, hauling you out of there. I don't think he broke anything, but those ribs are going to be sore for a while."

Face frowned. That night was a bit of a fog to him - they always were, after - but he did remember someone grabbing him. BA. Yeah. Exuberant wasn't exactly how he would describe it.

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what you were doing that night. Truthfully, anyway. I have a pretty good idea though. Had a long talk with Ralph, when we were tracking you down. You remember Ralph."

Face felt his face grow warm. Yeah, he remembered Ralph. Remembered how he'd started feeling safe there, safe for the first time in... and how he'd ruined it all. Started a whole new nightmare...

He suddenly sat up, a sharp pain reminding him he shouldn't. What had Ralph told them?

Hannibal shook his head as if he read Face's mind.

"Sit still, Face. Ralph didn't tell me anything I didn't need to know - as your CO."

"You're not my CO!"

"Technically, we're still in the Army, Lieutenant. So technically - "

"So technically you could call the MPs and have me thrown in the brig, right? Colonel?"

The sneer practically rang across the room, and for just a moment, Face thought he'd finally gone too far. Instead, Hannibal just sighed and shook his head.

"The point is, Face, that I understand your need to... well, taking off and getting into fights isn't going to accomplish anything. You need to find some other way of dealing with... "

Face almost laughed at Hannibal's obvious discomfort. Maybe it showed.

"You think it's funny? Creating a near-riot? You know where we are now, Face? Have you looked around? This isn't your little hideaway. It's a dump in LA. We had to leave San Ysidro, thanks to your little stunt."

"I didn't want to be there anyway."

"You don't want to be anywhere, do you?"

"Not really."

"Damn it, Face - we're trying to help you!"

Face did sit up this time, ignoring the searing heat that ran across his ribcage.

"I never asked for your help!"

"Well, you're getting it anyway!"

"Why?"

"Why?" Hannibal stared at him.

"Yeah, why? It's because of Murdock, isn't it? The one who talked you into looking for Kyle? He's your conscience. Always has been. That's why he ended up in the nuthouse. He wouldn't let things slide; had to find out. Had to know what you wanted to forget or ignore.

"And that's why I'm here. Why you have to 'help' me. Because Murdock expects you to and won't let you off the hook until I'm 'back to normal'. You don't want to help me - you're just stuck with me!"

"When are you going to get it through your thick skull that... that..." Hannibal stood suddenly, stepping around the chair and gripping the back. Tightly. Face almost winced when Hannibal shoved the chair up against the wall.

Almost.

"Murdock has nothing to do with this! He thinks you're dead!"

*****

BA sat in the living room, trying to concentrate on the television, but it was hard not to hear the raised voices. He slumped further into the couch. He should be used to it by now. It was almost like they were back in Nam - either totally in sync or fighting like cats and dogs. Except now, if they weren't fighting, Face just shut Hannibal out. He wondered if they would ever get in sync again. He winced as the voices rose yet again.

Not likely.

Before, he would've been in there with them, breaking things up, getting Face away before things got completely out of hand. That had been a mistake. Once in a while, yeah. Hannibal got a little too pushy, a little too persistent. But BA had interfered too much, and now he had to force himself to stay out of it. Unless he thought they might come to blows, he was determined to butt out.

Then he heard a muffled thud and he was up from the couch like a shot, hurrying down the hall. Without another thought of non-interference, he swung the door open wide and strode through.

Face was sitting up on the bed, which was the immediate surprise. But BA could see the effort was costing him - his skin was practically snow white and the arm he leaned on was visibly trembling. He was glaring up at Hannibal, who stood near the wall, hand still gripping the chair, glaring right back at Face. Neither man seemed to notice BA's entrance.

"You two okay?"

"Why would he think I'm dead, Colonel? Did you tell him that, to shut him up? Is that why you've been keeping us away from him? Keeping me away from him? So he can think it's all over?"

"If I wanted him to think you were dead, I'd - "

"Hannibal!"

The colonel's whole body seemed to snap to attention at BA's shout. And shout it was. God only knew what Hannibal had been about to say - but BA knew damn well as angry as Hannibal was, it wouldn't have made things any better.

"So what have you been waiting for?"

Damn. Just from the tone of voice, that quiet resignation, BA knew they'd lost whatever progress they'd made over the last three months. All Face's suspicions confirmed...

"I was going to say, Face, that if I'd wanted Murdock to think you were dead, you would be. So I could prove it to him. " Hannibal's voice was quiet, calm. "But I don't want him to believe that. And I don't want you dead. I never - I repeat - I never wanted you dead."

Face watched as Hannibal gently pulled the chair away from the wall and sat down. Only then did he glance at BA. Looking for confirmation, for assurances? BA nodded slowly and, deliberately casual, leaned against the doorframe.

"I don't know why Murdock thinks you're dead, Face. Maybe things finally got to him - he'd been fixated on finding Kyle for a long time and then finding you and the whole trip back... Maybe just getting back to the safety of the VA made him want to get away from all that for a while. He simply cannot, or will not, remember anything after we left LA."

BA knew Hannibal was lying, but it was a good lie. Wouldn't do anybody any good if Face knew the real reason. Hopefully, he'd never know.

Now the question was, would Face believe him?

"You didn't tell him I was dead?"

"No. But I haven't tried to convince him you're alive either. He's remembering more and more, and when he's ready, then I'll tell him. I think he's just dealing with so many emotions, so many conflicts about this whole thing, he just... well, he just needs time to adjust."

Face looked at Hannibal for another long moment before slowly sliding down on the bed, closing his eyes. BA wasn't sure which had given out - his body or his will - and he still wasn't sure if Face believed Hannibal or not. Then it came, so softly BA almost didn't hear it.

"Okay."

Not exactly a vote of confidence. BA thought there was a little too much 'I give up' in that one little word, but it was a start. He looked at Hannibal to see what he thought. For a few moments, the colonel just sat, head down, not saying a word. Maybe he couldn't believe it either. But then he cocked his head, studying Face. BA remembered that look. Always saw it just before Hannibal came up with some new hair-brained plan.

That's all they needed...

*****

Hannibal watched Face for several minutes, considering. Bringing Murdock into the mix right now had been unexpected, and he wasn't sure if he should move on with his plan or not. Then again, Face wasn't feeling as hostile - or as confident - as he had been. If Hannibal could get him to agree to this now, there was little chance he'd back out later. That much about Face he knew for sure.

And he didn't see that they had much choice. They needed the money now more than ever, and maybe, just maybe, it would give Face the focus he needed.

Or at least keep him from killing somebody.

He thought he knew how to get both BA and Face onboard. Explain that they wouldn't be joining some private army, traveling to some foreign country to help overthrow whatever government was in place, financed by a bunch of rich and power-mad guys in the US. He'd use their sense of fair play, looking out for the little guy - BA would throw in with that in an instant. And if he phrased it just right, he'd have Face, too. Because Hannibal knew, better than any doctor, why Face went on these wild 'flings'.

You couldn't be the victim, helpless, if you swung first.

And that's what they'd be doing. Taking the first swing for the people who didn't know how. Who couldn't protect themselves. The victims.

He took a breath, mentally crossing his fingers, and began.

**June 7 1977 - 8 months**

"You sure this is a good idea, Hannibal?"

Hannibal stared ahead, not wanting to answer because he was no longer sure it was a good idea. In fact, it might be a lousy idea. He looked over at BA, studiously watching the road ahead - and behind. One last chance to back out. Yeah. The Great Hannibal Smith, backing out of a challenge.

BA wouldn't hold it over him. No, BA would do what he always did - grumble and bitch and then do his job, whatever it was. As long as Hannibal told him to, he'd do it.

Even if it meant going back to being 'sort of' mercenaries. BA still didn't like it. No matter how many times Hannibal explained that it wasn't really mercenary work. This was different. Solving problems for people that couldn't take care of them by normal means. Not mercenaries.

Problem solvers.

Absently, his fingers traced the edge of the holster pressing against his thigh. It had been a long time since any of them had actually carried a gun. Kept them close, just in case, but... He wasn't sure if he liked how natural it felt.

Not that he thought he'd need it. All they were doing was meeting this guy, seeing if his "problem" was something they'd even be interested in. He was pretty sure they would be, considering the amount of money the guy was willing to spend. Hannibal couldn't dismiss that.

Then again, they'd had two close calls with the Army since placing that ad. Hannibal found it hard to believe Lynch was that smart, but somehow or another, the MPs had shown up instead of the supposed client. Damn near lost Face that first time; Hannibal had completely forgotten Face didn't know Lynch from Adam.

After the second ambush, they'd almost given up. Almost, but not quite. It made them all angry and frustrated - and determined. If for no other reason, they weren't going to let the Army screw them over again.

But Hannibal just knew someone else was pulling the strings. So he'd pulled the ad and started spreading the word through people they knew, people they could trust. And finally they'd gotten a bite that seemed genuine.

So far, anyway...

"Hannibal?"

He sighed.

"Yeah, BA. I'm sure."

*****

He stood across the street, watching every car, every truck, every pedestrian who came near the building. No one paid any attention to him. Kyle's jacket, cap pulled low, a rake pilfered from somebody's yard - just another drudge, cleaning up the grounds. He glanced at his watch - almost five. He looked around, stretching, then casually started across the street. He had to make his way around the back of the building, ditch the rake and hope he could get inside without anyone stopping him.

He grinned at the thought of being stopped, then shook his head. Not the time for that. Don't draw attention, cause trouble. Hannibal would be expecting him to be back at the apartment with the supplies when they got done. Wondering, all the while, if Face would come back.

He smiled. He'd known eventually Hannibal would have to let him go off on his own. With this new 'business venture', they didn't have the manpower for a babysitter. And he'd made damn sure he was cooperative, not giving Hannibal any reason to think he was anything other than a team player.

He frowned suddenly. He didn't like the idea that he wasn't with them to meet this new client, as Hannibal called them. They'd researched the guy pretty thoroughly, and the colonel was convinced the guy was legit. Still...

He didn't want anything happening to Hannibal or BA. Not yet.

He took another look around and casually crossed the street. Still being ignored. Good. He ran the rake over the grass, slowly working his way toward the corner of the building. Another quick glance around and the rake went behind the bushes. Hands in his pockets, head down, he shambled around the corner and into the mix of patients, orderlies and visitors - just another nutcase, out getting some air.

A couple of patients stepped towards him, questioning looks. Cigarettes? He glared, sending them off, mumbling angrily. Patients with no income besides their government allotment, no relatives to bring them luxuries. Nobody to give a shit what happened to them. Just plain nobodies in the grand scheme of things. Another time he might have obliged them. Now...

Welcome to the club, boys.

He reached the door without incident, walking into the building like he belonged there. He just hoped they hadn't moved Murdock again. A nurse frowned at him as he stood by the door, trying to get his bearings. He forced a smile, but she was already moving determinedly down the hall. He turned and walked just as determinedly in the opposite direction.

He saw a public restroom and, after yet another check to see if anyone was watching, stepped inside. Luckily it was empty; he checked the stalls twice before slipping into one and turning the latch. Then, hand suspended above it, he stopped. He knew it was locked, just as he knew he could unlock it whenever he wanted. He dropped his hand.

No more of that shit.

He swallowed, stepped back, and glanced at his watch. Visiting hours would be over in just a few minutes. Then they'd be serving supper. He leaned against the side of the stall. He'd wait until he knew the patients had all gone in. That would keep the staff occupied, with only a stray orderly here and there in the halls. He could get by them. The ward nurse might be a little harder to slip by. Well, once past her, a short walk down the hall, hang a left and, if he'd heard Hannibal right, he'd be in Murdock's room.

After that, it was a crapshoot.


	12. Chapter 12

**June 7 1977 - 8 months**

"I don't think we have to worry about Lynch this time, BA."

BA nodded, silent. Despite himself, he was impressed. He knew this area of Mulholland Drive was high-class, but he'd had no idea how high-class. And Hannibal was right - no way Lynch would dare try anything here. At the same time, anybody living up here had to have big bucks. And somebody with that kind of money - what kind of problem could they have that the authorities or politicians wouldn't clamor to fix?

He glanced at Hannibal and knew he was thinking the same thing. Whatever it was either involved a scandal or a crime, and that didn't exactly leave a good taste in his mouth.

"We ain't gonna be spying on the guy's wife or nothin, right?"

"We aren't private eyes, BA. We don't dig up dirt - we haul it away." Hannibal returned the glance. "And we don't cover up for people, either."

BA just shook his head and went back to watching the road. They should be getting close to the guy's house. Another two curves and BA spotted the very discreet sign marking the driveway. He pulled over to the side and parked.

"So?"

Hannibal looked around, scanning the terrain. Not that he could see much. Mostly trees and a couple signs marking other driveways.

"So, I guess we go see what Mr Fiedler has to say." He grinned at BA, who shook his head and pulled into the drive.

The house wasn't that far from the street, but the winding drive made it seem so. And it made it real easy to ambush, real hard to escape. BA didn't like it and he could tell Hannibal was unsettled as well, though he was trying to hide it. Not for the first time, BA was having second thoughts about this whole venture. Only this time, the mercenary part didn't bother him.

He just didn't know if they could handle it.

*****

Murdock had hurried through supper. He knew it was stupid, but every time he looked up and saw people talking, he was quite sure he was the subject of their conversation. It was all Joe's fault, putting those thoughts in his head. About his head.

Richter wouldn't like that. Said it was Murdock's way of not dealing with reality, fixating on some inconsequential thing, making that the focus of his attention. Which Murdock only half-accepted. What if Murdock said something about Richter having a big nose? Don't think for one minute the doc wouldn't be looking in the mirror a little more closely for the next few days.

Come to think of it, that might be kinda fun...

Murdock sighed as he pushed his tray over the counter to the attendant. He knew it wasn't any fixation problem. Nothing that complex.

He was bored.

It had been a couple months since Hannibal's last visit, and that had been short-lived. Not the first time Hannibal had seemed in a hurry to leave, either. Ever since they'd moved back to LA. Murdock frowned. Ever since Hannibal slipped and told him they'd moved 'back to LA'.

Okay, he didn't really care that they'd gone someplace else to hide out. That made sense. He wouldn't have minded if they hadn't told him where, either. That made sense, too. A lot of shit in-country had been 'need to know'. And Hannibal had done it stateside, as well, but that was just because Murdock was in the loony-bin. That just made sense.

But Hannibal had told him specifically they'd be staying in LA. Specifically.

Hannibal had lied to him.

"Watch it, man!"

Murdock practically jumped to the side. Damn it. Too many people around here to have any sentient thoughts. How was a person supposed to get their head straight with all these people milling about? The paradox of a mental hospital - they want you to figure things out but never give you space to do it. Too busy keeping you "social"...

His mood was reflected in the violent shove he gave the door to his room. He was so tired of everything. Tired of dancing around Hannibal and Richter. Tired of wondering what was going on with Face, not able to ask. Tired of the thoughts that popped up in his mind when he least expected them, and definitely didn't want them.

Like now. Seeing Face, sitting there on Murdock's bed. That's the last thing he needed right now. Sure, Face had helped him sort through things after talking to Richter, but that was when he wanted to sort things out. When he needed someone, well, sympathetic to ask the hard questions. Right now he didn't want hard questions. He wanted only to read his comics and forget the rest of the world.

"I'm not in the mood, Face, so disappear. Go back in my head where you belong."

Face didn't disappear. Murdock cocked an eyebrow. Face always disappeared when he was told to. That's why Murdock let him out. The others he fought to keep in because they never wanted to go back. Face... obeyed. But apparently not this time. This time he remained sitting on the bed, frowning at Murdock.

"Fine. Stay. But I'm not going to talk. Not about Hannibal, not about you, and not about my hair, okay? Nothing. Nada. Silencio!"

"I can't do that, Murdock. I don't have time."

Murdock stared.

Oh shit.

*****

William Fiedler was a nervous man. That made Hannibal nervous. Not outwardly, of course; he wasn't stupid. Just kept reminding himself that this was nothing more than watching for the hidden agenda behind new orders.

Hopefully he'd do better with Fiedler than he had Morrison...

"I'm not exactly sure about this, of course. I've always believed in the law, and following the rules." Fiedler stopped in front of the massive fireplace and stared hard at Hannibal. "I believe in the law, Colonel Smith."

"You won't get any arguments from me, Mr Fiedler."

"I have my doubts about that, Colonel. You didn't exactly wait around for your trial, did you?"

"Only because we knew where it was headed. I believe in the law, but I believe in justice even more."

Fiedler narrowed his eyes, but Hannibal realized it wasn't skepticism. Fiedler was assessing him as much as the other way around. It almost made Hannibal laugh. This was an audition! And apparently Fiedler decided Hannibal had passed.

"My family immigrated to the US just after World War II. I was born here. I grew up listening to the stories of the camps, the whole... well..." 

"You had family members in the camps?"

"Yes. 'Had' being the operative word." Fiedler walked slowly over to the huge picture window, stared down at the drive where BA sat in the van. "I grew up with all the advantages this country had to offer. Made a good living. Never really had to deal with... adversity. Enjoyed the good life. But then I'd go to visit my parents, and I'd see that... sadness in my mother's eyes when she'd look at me. Because I look so much like her father. That's what she always said, anyway. And her father was among those who went into the left line. The line to the gas chamber.

"Anyway, about a month ago, a friend of my father's from the camps came to see me with some... disturbing news. And a request. After much deliberation, I decided to do as he asked. And that's why I contacted you."

"Your father's friend is in trouble?"

"No. Nothing like that. No, he made a discovery. Unfortunately, he's too old to do anything about it, and frankly, doesn't have the funds either. But it's something that needs to be dealt with, for the sake of justice."

"All right. You have me intrigued, Mr Fiedler. What was this discovery?"

Fiedler sat heavily on the sofa across from Hannibal and remained silent for some time. Hannibal suddenly realized that this was something much bigger than local hoods or protection rackets.

"How much do you know about Nazi hunting, Colonel Smith?"

*****

Murdock hadn't moved. Hadn't stopped staring.

"You - you shouldn't be here."

"Probably not. Seems to be a pattern of mine - being where I shouldn't be."

He hadn't meant any animosity in the statement, but he caught Murdock's flinch.

"Is there... is there a problem? Are Hannibal and BA okay?"

He should've anticipated that. He didn't remember much of that brawl at the truck stop, but Murdock obviously did.

"Don't worry, Murdock. I haven't done anything to either one of them. They're both just fine and dandy."

"I didn't mean - "

"Skip it." Suddenly, Face knew this had been a mistake. Murdock wasn't ready. Maybe Face wasn't either. He stood and moved toward the door. Murdock stepped back, again with that flinch.

"Damn it, Murdock, I didn't come all the way out here to beat the shit out of you."

"I know! I... know. I'm sorry. I just... I'm just not used to you... being here and being...you."

"That makes no sense."

"Well, what do you expect from a crazy man? You oughta know - " Murdock paled. "I mean, I meant..."

"Forget it." The last thing he wanted was a discussion about how he wasn't 'quite right'. Like he didn't know.

"So, uh, why did you come now, Face?"

"Hannibal said you think I'm dead. Thought maybe it was time to correct that... I'm getting a bit tired of it, you know? Getting to be a habit with you people."

"Is that supposed to be funny? 'Cause it's not."

Face turned, walking to the window. The room was getting smaller again, and having Murdock between him and the door didn't set well. He stared out across the wide lawn, forcing his breathing to slow.

Stay with it now. Stay with it.

"I'm sorry, Murdock. I just... I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you knew - "

He stopped suddenly. Murdock had been surprised to see him, but not shocked. Like it was just an unexpected visit, not a return from the dead.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long since you remembered?"

Murdock sighed. "A while now. A few months."

"So why did Hannibal tell me you still thought - "

"Because I didn't tell him."

"Why?"

Murdock shrugged. " 'Cause there were still things I didn't remember. Still don't remember." He looked up at Face. "And Hannibal would've... well, he would've been Hannibal."

"Pushy."

"Well, trying to help, but... yeah."

"And you weren't ready to be pushed."

Murdock shook his head, looking away.

"And now?"

Murdock didn't answer right away, and the longer he took, the more uncomfortable Face became. Just being here, in this hospital... Not like the others, but... Just as well Hannibal hadn't let him stay here. It wouldn't have worked. Pipe dreams.

"You okay, Face?"

Murdock was looking at him; maybe had been for a while, Face didn't know. Spaced out again. He had to get out of here.

"I have to go."

Murdock nodded, and moved away from the door, leaving plenty of room for Face to pass by. The relief he felt when the doorknob turned told Face he'd stayed too long.

"Face?"

He stopped, not turning back.

"Some things are best left forgotten, Face. For both of us."

He swallowed, nodded, and hurried down the hall.

*****

BA sat on the couch and waited. Hannibal hadn't said a word all the way back to the apartment, merely sat, staring out the window and holding that briefcase. Whatever this Fiedler guy wanted, it was something big. Something Hannibal hadn't yet agreed to. BA knew that just by the fact there'd been no big grin when he got in the van. He also hadn't reacted to Face actually being at the apartment when they returned, or coming into the livingroom willingly for the briefing. For the first time in months, Face and his problems seemed to be secondary.

Hannibal pulled a cigar and lit it, taking a couple puffs before starting. He told them about Fiedler, about the family, the camps, the information the family friend had brought.

"This friend of his father's has good intel. I just glanced through it, but it's solid. And I tell you, I'm itching to get this guy. Bad enough what they did to the people over there - this guy made a profit from it."

"Why didn't Fiedler go to that Jewish group - they hunt these bastards down all the time."

"I think if it was anyone else, he would have. But this guy - Oskar Neumann - beat Fiedler's grandfather, stole his watch, wedding ring, then sent him on to the gas chambers. This is personal for Fiedler."

"He don't want us to kill the guy, right?"

"No. He wants the bastard alive."

"Okay. So we gonna do it, right?"

Hannibal glanced over at Face. So far he'd seemed entirely uninterested in the whole affair. BA caught Hannibal's soft sigh before he continued.

"There's a couple problems. A couple of big problems. One, the guy's in this little town in Argentina. Two, things are not exactly tourist-friendly down there right now."

BA grunted. "Ain't exactly friendly for us anywhere, is it?"

"Yeah, well, it's going to take some planning. Transportation, weapons... can't just waltz in there armed to the teeth and haul away one of their citizens."

"Just where are we hauling him to, Hannibal?"

It was the first time Face had spoken and, quiet as it was, BA still jumped a little.

"Fiedler wants him brought to his home. He'll have people waiting there, friends of his, to take this guy to Israel."

"You sure that's what his plans are?"

"I told you - he wants this guy alive. He wants justice for his family. And believe me, Fiedler is not a killer."

Face shrugged. BA figured he would've had other plans for this guy, but wasn't about to say so. He glanced over at Hannibal, who only shook his head.

The three men continued with their plans, tossing out some, keeping others, working on the logistics. But throughout it all, BA kept glancing at Face.

He was getting a really, really bad feeling about this.


	13. Chapter 13

**June 17 1977 - 8 months, 10 days**

The van rocked as BA climbed in, slamming the door.

"Clear?"

"Yeah. No uniforms. Plane's in the hangar. Looks like all the supplies are in there, too."

"Looks like?"

"I didn't take no inventory, Hannibal."

Hannibal knew it didn't matter anyway. If they were missing anything, it was too late to do anything about it now. He glanced at his watch. He'd told Fiedler they were leaving at noon - it was now almost 0700. By the time they got loaded and took off, Hannibal figured they'd have a good two hours on any military who might show up for the take-off. Not that he didn't trust Fiedler. He just preferred playing it safe.

He glanced around the field one more time. Theirs was the only other vehicle in sight.

"Any sign of - "

"He ain't here yet."

"I didn't hear him come back last night." And he'd waited up. They both knew it.

"Don't hear him less he wants you to."

"Didn't see him leave this morning."

"Nope."

"You still think he's going to show."

"Yep. He said he would. He will. Ain't lied to us yet."

Hannibal wasn't so sure about that, either, but decided to say nothing. It had been his idea to give Face some leeway in handling the supplies. A gesture, of sorts. He'd seen more and more of his old lieutenant coming out the last few months, and he wanted to encourage that. Build some confidence. Some trust. There'd been times when Face had hesitated a moment too long - that's when Hannibal suggested BA go along. But those times had been happening less and less. So when Face said he could handle this alone, Hannibal had let him.

Now he had to wonder if he should have.

*****

Face straightened his jacket one more time, turning to critically look himself over in the mirror. He adjusted his tie. Brushed through his hair. Tried not to notice the slight tremor in his hand.

He glanced at his watch. Late. Very late. Not that they'd leave without him. Still... Well, it couldn't be helped. There were time constraints. But Hannibal would definitely be unhappy, and Face didn't even want to think about BA. Frankly, he'd prefer not to think about any of this. Just walk out the door and keep on walking.

It wasn't the first time he'd felt that way, but it was definitely the strongest.

He left the washroom and walked quickly past the gas pumps, sliding into Hannibal's car. A quick glance in the backseat reassured him that the last of the supplies were still there. He hoped they'd be okay; he'd had to guess at some things. Nothing that couldn't be fixed later, of course. Still, he liked to have things right.

Just right.

Taking a deep breath, he started the car and maneuvered his way through traffic. Only three blocks, but it was rush hour and he was on the wrong side of the freeway. He didn't like driving on the freeway. Too many things distracting him. And not just on the road...

He shook his head, clearing those thoughts. Not going to give in to them. Not now.

Twenty minutes later, he finally pulled into the parking lot and found a place near the door, but not directly in front of it. Close enough for safety, far enough not to be seen from inside. The car may be Hannibal's baby, but it wasn't exactly a showpiece. One look and Face's cover would be blown.

Not that it was much of a cover.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he stared at the front door. It had been a long, long time since he'd pulled anything like this. Not since Saigon. Saigon and...

He swallowed and shoved the driver's door open. The hell with that. Hannibal and BA were waiting, and his window of opportunity here was shrinking fast.

He adjusted his sunglasses, then, straightening his jacket one more time, stepped through the doors and moved hesitantly toward the desk. He knew exactly where he was going, but he couldn't let that show. This was supposed to be all new to him.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for a Doctor Richter."

*****

"That's the last of it, Hannibal. Face got everything we needed and then some."

"I know that, BA. Now all we're missing is Face."

"He'll be here."

"You're sure of that, are you?"

BA was silent for a moment. Hannibal waited. Where Face was concerned, the sergeant was just as unpredictable as the lieutenant.

"Maybe he had trouble finding that guy. He said there might be complications."

"Yes, he did. But he wasn't very open about those complications."

"Hey, man - Face'll come through. He just a little rusty yet, that's all."

Hannibal shook his head. "I don't know, BA. I just get that feeling I should've let Fiedler supply the pilot...."

*****

"I'm sorry, but Dr Richter was called away suddenly. You just missed him."

"Oh, well, uh, that's okay, I guess. I was just picking up a friend of mine - Captain Murdock. The doctor said he'd let him visit for the weekend."

The woman frowned and pulled a large black notebook from the shelf. Glancing through it, she shook her head.

"There's nothing here about a weekend pass." Closing the book, she looked at Face, perplexed. "You do know that the captain is not... well, not very stable yet."

"I understand, ma'am. But I served with Murdock in Nam and the doc thought it might help. Something about a memory problem. Uh, maybe he left the pass on his desk."

"That could be. He has a few memory problems himself sometimes. You wait here, I'll go check."

Face watched as the nurse headed down the hall. This was the really sticky part. He'd called Richter yesterday, making sure to catch him on his way out. If the doctor was like those other shrinks, he would have at least made a quick note about Murdock's visitor before leaving. That would be all Face needed to talk his way out with Murdock in tow.

"What was the name, sir?"

Damn. Face hadn't even noticed her come back.

"Uh, Jacobson. Will Jacobson."

The nurse smiled. "There was a note on his desk. He probably meant to take care of things this morning, but, as I say, he was called away suddenly. I'll show you to Captain Murdock's room."

Face relaxed and smiled.

So far, so good.

*****

Dr Richter stood on the corner, shielding his eyes from the early morning glare. It wasn't a neighborhood he was familiar with and didn't look like a very safe one, either, which only added to his anxiety. Where were the police cars, the ambulance - where was his patient?

He double-checked his note, then looked again at the buildings around him. The building he was looking for should be on this block, but the addresses didn't match up. The number he was looking for just wasn't here.

He spotted a patrol car down the block and waved frantically. They pulled a u-turn and pulled up beside him.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I hope so. I'm Dr Richter and I received a call that one of my patients was - well, supposedly here, threatening to jump off a building. But the address - " Helplessly he handed the note and his hospital ID to the officer.

The cop reached for his radio. "What was your patient's name?"

"Well, that's just it. I don't know. The officer who called me said the man wouldn't give them his name, just kept asking for me."

"Hang on, doc."

Richter began scanning the area as the officer spoke to the dispatcher. Every moment counted and he was already beating himself up for the possible consequences of the delay. How could he be so stupid? He had to have gotten the address wrong...

"Hey, doc - I'm afraid someone's pulling a sick joke on you, sir. Nobody knows anything about a possible jumper, and nobody from this precinct called you."

"What?"

"Sorry, doc. Pretty shitty trick to play, but at least you don't have to worry about your patient."

"Yeah. Thanks, officer. I'd better get back to my office."

Richter sat in his car for several moments, seething. Who the hell would pull something like this? And why?

*****

"I'll leave you gentlemen to get ready then. Just be sure to sign out before you leave, Murdock."

Murdock nodded, although he wasn't really sure what she meant by "leave". Frankly, he was still trying to decide if this was his Face or the real thing. He really needed to talk to Richter about that reality thing, but since he still hadn't come clean on the memory loss...

"Hurry up, Murdock. Pack a few things and let's get out of here."

Definitely the real thing. His Face never ordered him around.

"Uh, where we going?"

"Argentina by way of Chile. You're flying us down there."

"I'm what?"

"Shhhh!" Face glanced out the small window in the door before yanking open the closet, pulling out the duffel he found in the corner. "You're flying us to South America. Hannibal and BA are waiting at the airport."

"What airport? Why are we going to South America? And how did you get Richter to let me go?"

"We've got a job down there. And I didn't exactly get Richter's permission, which is why we need to hurry. He could be back any time."

"A job? What kind of job? And where's the doc that he has to come back?" Confused as hell, Murdock nonetheless started pulling clothes out of his dresser.

"I sent him on a wild goose chase. That's the only way I could think of to break you out of here. The nurse thinks he okayed a weekend pass."

"He'd never do that. Not yet."

Face looked up from the duffel, one of Murdock's t-shirts crumpled tightly in his hand. "I know that, Murdock! Jesus, will you just get your shit together? Or don't you want to go with us?"

"It's just... it's been a while since I did any flying. What kind of plane is it?"

"Gulfstream, I think. We'll have to land someplace to refuel, but otherwise it should get us there and back. It's not like a big transport, Murdock."

"Size isn't the issue. I've never flown a Gulfstream. I don't know anything about the instruments or - "

"So you'll figure it out. You always said you could fly anything."

Murdock sighed. "Don't you know the difference between bragging for real and bragging for bragging?"

Face slammed the duffel to the floor and glared at him. "I promised Hannibal a pilot. Now, are you a pilot or just another useless nutcase?"

Murdock drew himself up ramrod straight, fighting the urge to take a swing at him. "Fine. I'll go along. This time." He grabbed his duffel and headed for the door, stopping with his hand on the doorknob. "Just don't go making this sort of thing a habit, okay? I got enough problems with Richter."

*****

Hannibal recognized the sound of his car - it had a little tick that even BA had been unable to find or fix. He hurried to the front of the hangar, stopping short as the two men climbed out of the car.

No...

"I don't know, Face. What if - "

"You'll do fine, Murdock. It's like riding a bicycle. One look at those instruments and you'll know exactly what to do."

Murdock walked past Hannibal, not even acknowledging him, apprehension obvious on his face. Hannibal watched as he slowly put his hands on the nose of the plane and began going over every inch, hands almost caressing the body. BA stood to one side, mouth open, staring. Hannibal turned to Face, who was walking up with a deliberate casualness.

"Sorry we were late, Hannibal. Had to wait until the VA actually opened up."

"This... this was the complication you meant? Murdock?"

"Well, not Murdock so much as getting him out. But that went smooth as glass."

"Lieutenant, you know there's a reason why Murdock is in the VA, do you not?"

"Yes, Colonel, I do. I also know that Murdock is the only pilot we can trust to get us down there and back without turning us in." Face shrugged, strolling into the hangar. "Besides, he needed to get out of there for a while."

"He did, did he?"

"Yeah, Hannibal, he did. I don't care how nice it is, it's still a nuthouse. It's still being... locked up." There was a tone to his voice that Hannibal couldn't mistake. "Murdock needs to fly."

Hannibal shook his head and followed Face inside. Murdock was up in the cockpit now; Hannibal could see him frowning over the control panel. Maybe Face was right. It wouldn't have mattered if Fiedler gave them a pilot he trusted, not with a reward that big. And, not without some guilt, he knew he could've taken Murdock out for at least a couple hours on some of those visits.

Whether Murdock was stable enough for this kind of trip was another story.

BA had no such doubts.

"Hannibal! You see that? You see who our pilot is? You gonna let him fly us down to South America? That's - that's just - that's just crazy, Hannibal!"

"I know, BA, but just because Murdock's crazy doesn't mean he can't fly. Right? I mean - "

"How you know that, man? How you know he ain't gonna go berserk out over the ocean? Or the jungle? Or the mountains? Or - "

"BA, calm down! There's absolutely no reason he can't do this. I'll make sure someone's in the cockpit with him the whole time, so if there are any problems we can find a place to land before it's... dangerous."

BA glared at Face climbing into the plane.

"I know damn well who that's gonna be, too!"

Sighing, Hannibal went out to his car. He'd park it in the hangar with the van while they were gone. Hopefully, it would only be a few days, a week at most.

And then he was going to have a long, long talk with his lieutenant.


	14. Chapter 14

**June 18 1977 - 8 months, 11 days**

"So..." Murdock looked over at Hannibal, who paced slowly across the room. "Now what?"

"We're fucked - that's 'now what'."

Face spat out the words before turning to stare out the small window. Hannibal frowned, noting the stiff back, the hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"You did mention Mr Amon when you contacted the tower, right, Murdock?"

"Yeah, Hannibal. And the guy seemed to know what I was talking about."

"So why we locked up in here then? Hell, we ain't even done nothin yet! Where's those friends of Fiedler's s'posed to be here to meet us?" BA leaned against the wall of the small room, arms crossed. His eyes were on Face, as well.

"Well, we did get here a couple hours ahead of schedule, guys."

"Yeah, and why was that? Because you didn't trust the client!"

"Face, take it easy. I'm sure these guys called Amon and he'll be here very shortly to get us out. We just have to stay calm until then."

The look Face threw at him was not reassuring. Hannibal could sympathize - it had been a long time since Face had had to endure being locked up. That he hadn't exploded already was a credit to how far he'd come - but Hannibal held no illusions. The fuse was burning and there was no way of knowing how short it was.

So - diversion.

"Face, pull those maps out. Might as well get Murdock caught up while we're waiting."

Face hesitated a moment before stepping over to the duffel and pulling out the roll of maps. He spread them out on the table, sorting through them before pulling one and laying it on top. Hannibal stepped over and pointed to a spot on the map.

"Okay. We'll be landing somewhere near the Cardenal Antonio Samoré Pass, in Chile. Where exactly is up to you, Murdock, just so it's close to this road. Fiedler's contact - uh, Pereyra - will let him know when we're ready to move, and he'll have a fuel truck waiting in Chile." Hannibal allowed himself a smile. "Pays to have connections."

Murdock frowned, but said nothing, staring at the map.

"Once we land, we'll travel on foot to the border, crossing here, by the 231 highway. That's where the only tricky part is - we'll have to wait for Pereyra to show, maybe overnight. He runs a grocery store near Bariloche and will pick us up in his truck. I figure three, four days, and we should be able to find Neumann, snatch him, and get the hell out."

"This buddy of Fiedler's going to get us back to the border and the fuel truck?" Murdock was still frowning, but thoughtfully. A good sign.

Hannibal sighed. "No. He can't be anywhere near Bariloche when we make the actual grab. He has to live there, after all. He's taking one hell of a chance picking us up. If we're found, without passports, carrying weapons - either the guerrillas or the Argentine army is going to make us into arms dealers. Which means being paraded around for the papers and then disappearing. Anybody connected with us would be dog meat. Worse if they catch us after we grab Neumann."

The room was quiet. During all the earlier planning, the consequences had been alluded to, but never spelled out. Murdock was looking a little sick and Hannibal stared at Face, who glanced calmly back as he rolled up the maps. Hannibal hadn't had a chance to talk to him about Murdock on the way down here - Face had taken the co-pilot's seat and stayed there the whole flight. Had he even mentioned the dangers to Murdock? Had he even given him the option of not coming along to begin with?

Did he even care?

The door opened and the airport security chief stepped inside, followed by another man in a business suit, who smiled nervously at them.

"Gentlemen, my apologies for the delay. I am Santiago. Mr Amon sent me to... collect you. Please..." He gestured toward the door.

"Don't worry about your plane." The security chief looked at Santiago, not Hannibal. "My men will see no one disturbs it."

Silently they gathered their belongings and followed their escort to a sedan parked outside.

*****

Hannibal declined, on behalf of the team, when Santiago extended Mr Amon's offer to share dinner with him. Not only because he wanted the team rested before tomorrow's travels, but also because he was embarrassed. Mr Amon, and apparently Santiago, thought they'd arrived early deliberately; in fact, in all their planning, Hannibal had forgotten all about the Jewish sabbath.

He sent BA to the nearest market for their own dinner, and after they ate, sat down with Murdock to go over the maps one more time. Murdock's concentration seemed solid, and he'd certainly had no noticeable problems with the plane thus far. But there remained a simmering anger that Face had dragged the pilot into this without giving him the whole story, and Hannibal wasn't sure what to do about that.

Other than making sure Face would never pull something like that again.

"Hannibal?"

"What?"

"I think we could make this whole thing a lot easier. And safer for this guy in Bariloche, too."

"Oh? How?"

"Well, I can land right here - see? Just a few miles west of Bariloche. Just gotta fly low through these valleys - might rile up a few locals, but not likely anyone would realize the plane's from the States. 'Specially if we do a little paint job here and there before we leave. We can get picked up here." Murdock pointed to a highway on the map.

"Okay, but can you take off again?"

"Yeah, either over this village or the mountains. A little tricky, but there's no hoping this Fiedler guy can really come up with the truck. The airport's just over on the other side of town. Fix ourselves some phony work orders," he glanced over at Face, "and we can drive a fuel truck right out of there."

"All right. We'll plan on going over the mountain - the fewer people see us, the better. I'll have Mr Amon let Pereyra know." He clapped Murdock on the shoulder, grinning. "Good work, Captain."

"Well, that's why I'm here."

Hannibal looked at him for a moment, frowning. Glancing to see Face on the other side of the room, staring out the window, he leaned toward Murdock.

"What exactly did Face tell you about this job, Captain?"

"He told me you needed a pilot. That's all I needed to know, Hannibal. That's all I'll ever need to know."

For a moment, the two men locked eyes, then Hannibal nodded. If Murdock did have a problem with Face, he would deal with it himself.

The next morning, Santiago showed up at the small hotel to collect the team, explaining Mr Amon was handling some last minute details for their trip. Hannibal was beginning to think perhaps Amon simply wanted nothing to do with this venture - not that he blamed him. Hannibal told Santiago of their new plans; the man apparently agreed with Murdock's assessment. After dropping the team at the airport, he immediately left to inform Mr Amon, who would, in turn, let Pereyra know.

Once at the airport, Murdock inspected the plane while the rest double-checked their supplies. Pay-off or not, Hannibal was being cautious. The security chief stopped by the hangar, frowning but saying nothing as the men painted over the tail-number. Only when the team was on-board, ready to taxi out of the hangar, were they left alone, and Hannibal could almost feel the collective sigh of relief.

The night before had been restless for all. It was finally hitting them - within hours they would actually be getting back into action none of them had really dealt with since Nam. Even that little stint with the mercenaries hadn't been like this. The team, and only the team, going into unknown territory... the surveillance... the hit and run tactics... If this were the same team he'd had back in Nam, Hannibal wouldn't have a single qualm. Now?

Now he could feel his fingers crossing.

*****

Senor Pereyra sat across the supper table from Hannibal, explaining, in only slightly hesitant English, the layout of the city and where the quarry lived. To Hannibal, it seemed like a fairly easy job. Neumann was a man of habit; every morning he went for a walk along the lake. Always at the same time, always for the same distance. He always ended up at a small cafe, where he had his breakfast. After breakfast, he walked back to his house and spent the remainder of the morning inside. Probably working on his damn memoirs - the glory of the Third Reich and his oh-so-important role in the Grand Scheme.

Something Hannibal would take great pleasure in burning.

Neumann's day continued with its predictability. For lunch, he went to a fashionable restaurant on the far side of the city, joined by friends. The lunch was always leisurely, lasting precisely two hours. Then he would go to a small print shop he owned. He would stay there until exactly five o'clock.

That's where the routine ended. Neumann was apparently a social animal, well-known and well-liked. Pereyra said he very seldom spent an evening alone at home. He either was attending a party or giving one, and they could last well into the night.

"Well, that's pretty cut and dried, then. We'll take him as soon as he gets back from breakfast. Nobody's going to miss him until lunch time."

"Right. Piece of cake." Face frowned, looking at the hand-drawn map. "You did notice he lives in the middle of the block, with plenty of neighbors. Not exactly easy to get in and out without being noticed - especially dragging a body with us."

"A body?" Pereyra's face paled. "I was told you would be taking him alive! I cannot - "

"Just a figure of speech, Senor. We'll more than likely have to knock him out, but we certainly have no intention of killing him."

Hannibal glared at Face, who shrugged it off. He'd been entirely too casual about this whole thing, to Hannibal's mind. And he had to admit, he wasn't sure he trusted Face. Or at least trusted how Face would react when the adrenaline started pumping. He hadn't forgotten what had happened to those guys in Alabama, or that orderly at Southern Life. Sure, the circumstances were a hell of a lot different, but there remained that chance.

Face hadn't gotten into any fights in a long, long time...

*****

Hannibal sauntered up the street, nodding occasionally to passers-by, never speaking. Just another elderly gentleman taking his morning constitutional. Pereyra had told him that, with the fedora pulled jauntily down and dark sunglasses, no one would take a second look. But if he spoke - it would all be over. The entire neighborhood, if not the entire town, would know in hours that there was an American in town. That could cause problems itself. Only a few months before, a group of Americans had been jailed, beaten and tortured before finally being released. All because they'd had some pamphlets the government didn't like.

The bigger danger was to Pereyra and any other Argentinians who might be connected with the team. Thousands had already disappeared in the government's attempts to eradicate leftist opponents. Hannibal was under no illusions what would happen if there was the slightest hitch in their plans, if there was any hint that Pereyra had anything to do with this kidnapping.

He wasn't about to let that happen.

As he passed Neumann's front gate, noting carefully the houses on either side, the traffic on the street, the doors and windows, he once again felt that tug of anxiety. He knew his guys could pull this off. He knew it.

And he would keep telling himself that.

*****

"Can't do it."

BA scowled. He'd figured as much when he saw the guard shack, but the finality in Face's voice irritated him anyway.

"Maybe they wouldn't notice."

"Right. We could just waltz right in - inspectors without official uniforms, official car, official paperwork - grab a few blank work orders, glide on out... Piece of cake."

BA scowled even deeper. He'd never liked Face's sarcasm. Never.

"So what now?"

Face sighed, looked over at Pereyra, who shrugged.

"Only thing we can do. We'll have to come out here tonight and steal a truck. Refuel and haul ass with it as far from the plane as we can and still get ourselves back in time for the snatch."

"And hope none of them people out there report us? If they ain't already."

"I told you - even if they found the plane, they won't say anything. They're too afraid of who you might be." Pereyra spoke from the driver's seat.

BA quirked an eyebrow at him. "You got a lot of people scared down here, don't you?"

Pereyra looked at him. "Senor?"

"Guerillas blowing up everybody, government dumping people out of airplanes... Hell, man, you live in the same town with Nazis!"

Pereyra smiled bitterly. "What would you have us do? Shoot them?" He pulled out a cigarette, handing another to Face. "Peron let many Nazis in after the war, but he also recognized Israel. He let us hold public office for the first time. It is no different here than anywhere else - we take what we are given, try to make it prosper, and hope we can keep it for a while."

"Well, at least we'll get rid of one of them for you."

Pereyra gave a bitter chuckle. "Yes, and after you leave, we will board up our windows and lock our doors and prepare for another Eichmann. But your boss in America - he will be happy."

Face stared, clearly puzzled. "If you know that's going to happen, why help?"

Pereyra tossed his cigarette and started the car.

"Because he is a Nazi - and I am a Jew."

*****

"That won't work, Face. You steal a truck from the airport, you'll have the authorities on your ass within minutes. No way you could lose them with a truck that size."

"Well, we can't go back to the original plan, unless you want to fly out of here, drop down in Chile, wait for the truck - "

"Okay, Lieutenant. I get the picture." Hannibal glared, but Face just shrugged. "How long will it take to refuel, Murdock?"

"At least an hour, Colonel. A lot depends on the pump that truck has."

Hannibal paced the small terrace. Despite the chill, he'd elected to talk out here, away from Pereyra's family. He could feel the anger every time the man's wife looked at them and was under no illusions about who she would turn on if push came to shove. Not that he blamed her - her husband's participation was out of obligation, not fervor.

"Pereyra, those trucks come in every day, right?"

"Yes, from the depot to the north. There are at least two or three trucks every morning."

"Do they travel in a convoy or separately?"

Pereyra shrugged. "Not together, not apart."

"Okay, staggered. That'll work." Hannibal grinned. Things were starting to look up. "BA, the next two mornings you and Murdock will be checking out those trucks. Pick your spot - and make sure you've got a quick and quiet way to get to the plane. Understood?"

BA glanced at Pereyra and nodded. Murdock opened his mouth, quickly shutting it and nodding as well.

"And I suppose you and I are going to deal with Neumann?" Face straightened, rolling his shoulders. The picture of boredom.

"Yeah, you and I get the dull part. If you think you can handle it."

Face looked at him and for a moment, Hannibal thought he might have pushed the wrong button. Then Face grinned insolently and sauntered toward the door.

"I can handle it, Colonel - just hope you can."


	15. Chapter 15

**June 21 1977 - 8 months, 14 days**

It all came down to timing. Hannibal had to count on BA and Murdock doing their part on schedule, while making sure everything he and Face did went without a hitch. The slightest delay on either side could spell disaster.

Just like the old days.

He didn't know if the others felt it or not. He wasn't sure if he hoped they did or not. Watching BA and Murdock heading out in Pereyra's 'stolen' truck, he didn't feel the misgivings he should have, knowing how well they'd been getting along. Even watching Face hide the Colt inside the coveralls they'd gotten for disguises didn't dampen the feeling. It was building as surely as it had every time they'd headed for the chopper over in Nam.

Despite everything that could go wrong, that probably would go wrong, he felt like grinning. Hell, like laughing out loud.

He was jazzed, and damn - it felt good. It had been too long...

Face glanced pointedly at his watch and Hannibal nodded. Wouldn't do to be late to the kidnapping...

*****

Murdock pulled the truck over to the side of the road, pulling a map out and holding it conspicuously against the steering wheel. Anyone passing by would assume they were lost; hopefully, there would be no good Samaritans among them. BA sat with the passenger seat pushed back as far as it would go, the side mirror adjusted so he could see the road behind them.

The truck was running, in gear, Murdock keeping the brake pedal down until the right moment. He grinned. Hannibal and Face may have their own snatch-and-grab, but this was a BA-sized operation.

"What you grinnin about? Pay attention!"

Murdock sobered immediately, at least on the outside. He knew damn well BA was just as ready for action as the rest of them. Two days when all they'd done was surveillance - it was enough to drive him up a wall, despite Murdock's attempts at entertaining. He'd learned a lot of fun stuff at the VA, but BA had been noticeably unimpressed. So, okay - he might have gotten a bit carried away. But he had to do something. Idle time meant thinking time and he didn't need that. Didn't need to think about that plane, for one thing.

No map in the world could give him every detail he needed to land. It hadn't been the smoothest job he'd ever done, but he wasn't too worried. Well, yeah, he would've liked to have spent some time going over the landing gear, but they'd had to unload and camouflage the plane. Then Pereyra had shown up and they'd had to get the hell out of there before the wrong people showed up.

But that was all right. It had just been a bit bumpier than he'd have liked. No problem.

No problem at all...

"Heads up, man. Here comes the first truck."

*****

Face grimaced as he pulled the wires out. It had been a while since he'd stolen a car, but he figured, as usual, that it was like riding a bike. The fact he hadn't learned to ride one until college - or who had taught him - was the thing he did try to forget.

He heard Hannibal shuffling his feet outside and smiled grimly. Hannibal didn't like this part of the plan, but to Face it made perfect sense. They wanted to keep Pereyra out of the picture, so what better way than to have another vehicle stolen and obviously connected to the kidnapping? And this one actually couldn't be traced to Pereyra or any of his friends. A total stranger. That was the part that bothered Hannibal. Face figured an anonymous 'rental fee' after Fiedler paid them would take care of any hassle the owner had to deal with. That, of course, assuming they made it back to the States with their hostage intact.

Face hesitated for a moment. He knew the colonel had been watching him - like he knew what Face was thinking. If you wanted to disappear, why not Argentina? So his Spanish wasn't that great. Practically zero, actually. But there were English speakers around. The fact that Americans weren't exactly welcome here didn't bother him. The only open arms back in LA belonged to the military. But tempting as it was, he had other things demanding his return with the others.

Debts still to pay.

"Face?"

He blinked and got back to work. The wires sparked - once, twice - then the engine suddenly sputtered and took. He sat up, grinning, as Hannibal hopped into the passenger seat.

"Neumann Express, at your service, Colonel."

*****

"Move it, Murdock! And keep this thing steady!"

"Don't worry, BA. Just like precision flying. All you gotta do is - "

"Shut up, you damn fool, and get up there!"

Murdock shut up. He knew BA would ten times rather be doing the driving but Murdock had to this time. No way he could handle that truck driver - let alone the truck. He wasn't even sure BA could. Hell, maybe BA wasn't either.

He pulled Pereyra's truck up close behind the tanker, easing up slowly. Their goal - the ladder on the back. BA had climbed into the rear of their van, sliding the door open, hanging on with a grim look as Murdock edged into the oncoming lane. They had only moments for this - at any minute somebody could come barreling toward them, or the trucker would notice what they were attempting. Either could mean disaster.

Not to mention the very real chance BA wouldn't get a good hold before Murdock had to pull back.

Hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life, Murdock pulled fully into the oncoming lane, accelerating to move up on the tanker, slowing to match speed.

"Closer, fool!"

Jaw clenched, Murdock moved to the right, feeling like he was going under the trailer. A quick glance in the rearview mirror. BA was halfway out the door, reaching...

Damn! Too close. He jerked to the left, heard BA's cussing, moved back to the right. Precision flying like hell!

Then a slight lurch to the van. Another glance in the mirror - BA was gone. Not knowing if they'd succeeded or if BA was splattered along the pavement, Murdock pulled left away from the truck, braking sharply, getting back behind the tanker, only then seeing BA climbing up the ladder. The truck hadn't slowed - so far so good. Murdock backed off, following at a more discreet distance.

He watched as BA slowly made his way along the catwalk on top, fighting the wind and swaying of the truck. After what seemed like an hour, he reached the front of the trailer and disappeared. Almost immediately the truck swayed wildly before suddenly swinging to the side of the road, coming to a halt in a cloud of dust.

Minutes later, Pereyra's van was parked off in a field. Unless someone was actually looking for it, it wouldn't be noticed for quite some time. Long enough for the team to make their getaway, at least. The tanker's driver was tied up in the back, waiting for rescue.

Murdock leaned back in the passenger seat of the tanker's cab, closing his eyes. He could relax now until they reached the plane. Then it would be all business again. And, God willing, within a couple hours they'd all be on their way home.

"Hey, Murdock."

Oh yeah - his 'precision driving'. He opened his eyes, waiting for the tongue-lashing.

"You did good, man."

*****

Hannibal checked the clock on the wall as they left the garage. Neumann should be arriving home after his breakfast; BA and Murdock should be on their way to the plane with the fuel truck. He and Face were finishing up the last errands before their part of the plan began.

The mundane task took a little of Hannibal's excitement away. He wouldn't even consider the lack of sleep. Last night - or early morning, depending on how one looked at it - he, Face, and Pereyra had taken the team's gear to this garage (another friend of a friend) and stored it. Their duffels were now in the stolen truck next to the refrigerator that was key to their success.

Just large enough for a man to fit in - uncomfortably, perhaps, but he would fit. He frowned. Face had suggested, only half-joking, that Neumann spend the entire trip in there, but Hannibal had nixed that idea. He didn't know which bothered him more - that Face would be that cruel, or that Hannibal had actually considered going along with it.

The slamming of the back doors brought Hannibal out of his thoughts and he climbed quickly into the truck. Face pulled slowly out into the light traffic and headed toward the outskirts of Bariloche. They followed the side streets as much as possible, keeping an eye on the clock, watching for any signs of the police. Hopefully, the truck hadn't been missed yet.

Hannibal knew that was another reason for the damper on his mood. He figured they might have trouble with Neumann. He figured they might have trouble with the local authorities; maybe even the guerillas. After all, that plane would be worth a lot to them. But the last thing he'd expected was a stubborn delivery man.

It should've been simple. They'd called the appliance store, placed an order for the refrigerator, and gave an address that Pereyra said was all new construction and not well-traveled. The truck arrived on schedule, and Hannibal expected to tie the driver up, grab the truck with the fridge, and that would be that. But the delivery man had other ideas. He ran. Not only that but when they caught up and cornered him, he defiantly threw the keys away.

Face had given Hannibal that look he knew so well from Nam - the "I told you it wouldn't be that easy" look. Hannibal hadn't said anything, but he added it to his list of things to talk to Face about when this was all over. They tied the driver up - maybe a little too tightly, just to teach him a lesson about being a hero over a damn refrigerator - and took off only slightly behind schedule.

Hopefully, Murdock and BA had had smoother sailing.

*****

It didn't look right. He didn't know why exactly, but it just didn't look right. Of course, it would help if he knew more about the plane. Or if he'd been flying more the last few years. Hell, if he'd been flying, period. But what would help the most would be if his head wasn't so foggy. He was zoned out, and he knew he had to come back. Had to.

He shouldn't have let himself relax. That was the problem. If he'd kept that heady rush going, he would've been okay. But he'd relaxed, and let his brain slow down, and now he just couldn't get it going again. There just wasn't enough spark left up there...

Didn't use to be that way. Used to be he could ebb and flow and jump right back into things without any buildup at all. But then, a lot of things were different now. Too many things. That just wasn't right. Not right at all. Like the - 

"Hey, man! Get in there and check those gauges. Don't want fuel running all over the place."

Murdock nodded quickly and climbed aboard, practically running to the cockpit. He knew they weren't nearly full yet, but he wasn't going to argue. BA was in no mood for any of Murdock's 'messing around' after that trip through the city. They'd tried to map out a route that would be the least conspicuous, but that didn't stop people from looking. Probably not every day a fuel truck went roaring through their neighborhood. It wasn't until they'd passed Villa Catedral without anyone giving chase that BA had relaxed at all.

So now was not a good time for an argument. Definitely not a good time to ask the master mechanic if he saw something wrong with the landing gear.

Maybe Murdock shouldn't have suggested landing here instead of in Chile...

*****

Hannibal glanced at Face, trying to read his expression and failing. He hadn't liked the way Face had been acting this whole trip. Way too casual. The only time he hadn't seemed bored with the whole affair was when they were locked up in that room in Costa Rica, and Hannibal preferred the boredom act to that. Maybe now, while they were alone, would be a good time to try and get him to open up. Just get an idea of what he was thinking...

"Does this whole thing strike you as ironic, Colonel?"

Hannibal frowned. Not exactly what he'd had in mind. "Ironic?"

"Yeah. Here we are, fugitives from justice, chasing down this guy to hand over to the authorities. I'd call that ironic."

"Yeah, but we're innocent."

"We robbed that bank."

"Under orders."

"Yeah. That's what the Germans said."

Hannibal cut off his curt answer, though Face's comment angered him. As if what they had done compared at all to these bastards. Okay, he had to concede they might have been on the edge of legal, but...

Damn. How did he do it? How did Face always find the way to get under Hannibal's skin? And why did it always seem deliberate?

They finished the drive in silence, the tension - excitement? - building with each block. Turned the last corner - the house was visible now. Some foot traffic, a few cars parked along the narrow street. Their luck was holding - there were three open spaces in front of Neumann's. Face pulled the truck up in front. Was there a slight hesitation before he stepped out, heading for the front door? Wishing he had a cigar, Hannibal got out and headed for the back of the truck. Something was off; he didn't know what exactly, but there was more to that irony thing than Face had said. No time for thinking about it now. He saw Face reaching for his Colt as he climbed the steps.

Showtime.

*****

Face walked up the steps to the front door, his right hand casually tucked inside his coveralls, holding the revolver ready. He knew Hannibal thought he was too calm, but inside...

His finger hovered in front of the doorbell as he clamped his eyes shut. He should've kept his mouth shut. That damn irony bullshit. Thinking about the robbery and... and afterward. Should've stopped those thoughts before they even got started. Should have fought it back. Fought that image. Refused to see Harry. That grin...

Get thee behind me...

His finger jabbed the doorbell even as the buzzing in his head began. Keep it down. Down. Do the job. Neumann.

The door opened. An older man stood there, questioning.

"Herr Neumann?"

Obviously puzzled, the man nodded. Face pulled the Colt quickly and stepped inside, the barrel in Neumann's stomach forcing him back, fear and resignation immediately appearing on his face. Face shoved the door shut with his foot before moving through the foyer into the dining room, Neumann backing up the entire way. Jerking his head toward a straight chair by a marble fireplace, Face pulled the rope from his pocket. Quick glances showed him an opulent room, filled with expensive furniture and trinkets. He thought about the things Neumann had done to those poor bastards in the camps. Thought about him living here in the lap of luxury all these years.

Was Harry living well these days? A wife, kids? Nice home in the Laotian countryside?

Or was he really in the States, and not just a figment of Face's imagination? Following. Waiting. Grinning as he disappeared into the mist of Face's mind, knowing what he'd gotten away with. Knowing no one would be coming after him.

Hannibal didn't know what the real irony was.

*****

Hannibal casually unlocked the back of the truck, surreptitiously watching the street. No one seemed to take notice of the delivery truck, and he grinned to himself as he headed up the steps. The door swung open without surprises, and with one last look around, Hannibal quickly entered, closing the door and making sure it was locked. Nothing in the surveillance said Neumann ever had morning visitors, but he was taking no chances. He heard movement in an adjoining room and headed there, pulling his own pistol.

No chances.

He found Face tying Neumann up - and none too gently. The calm seemed to have deserted his lieutenant.

"Face - take it easy. He's not going anywhere."

"Damn right he's not."

"Face."

"Fine! You finish it." Without another word, Face dropped the rope and pushed past Hannibal.

Frowning, Hannibal went over to Neumann, loosening the ropes around his wrists slightly before starting on his ankles.

"Bitte... please... I have money - "

"Money won't help you this time, buddy. We have some friends in America who are very eager to meet you."

Neumann strangely seemed calmer at that.

"America, then? Not Israel?"

Hannibal straightened, glaring down at him. "America first, bud. I have no doubt you'll be seeing the Star of David before too long."

Neumann sighed, looking down at the floor.

Yeah, you bastard - you wondered when this day would come, didn't you?

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, winding it into a gag. Neumann's resignation changed immediately.

"No! No! I go quietly. Please - don't - "

"Sorry, pal, but I don't think I'll trust your word."

Neumann shoved himself up from the chair, vainly attempting to hobble away, tumbling awkwardly to the floor. Hannibal shook his head, straddling the man and forcing the cloth into his mouth, tying it firmly behind his head. Neumann continued to struggle as Hannibal dragged him back onto the chair, tying him to the back of it with another length of rope.

"Now just do as you're told, like a good little storm trooper, or it'll be that much harder on you."

Shaking his head, Hannibal left the room, searching for Face.


	16. Chapter 16

**June 21 1977 - 8 months, 14 days**

Face wasn't sure what he was looking for. Fiedler said there would be something, some token, a trophy - something Neumann would take out and look at on occasion. Something to remind him of the vermin he'd helped to eliminate. Something that would boost his ego when he felt his conscience twinge. Hannibal had been equally sure of it.

He'd found the papers almost immediately, stuffed in an elaborate wooden box in the lower cabinet of the den. Custom built, no doubt. Nothing too good for Herr Neumann! The papers were what both Fiedler and Hannibal had predicted - pompous ramblings describing his induction into the Party, the military career as a guard at the extermination camps. Proudly declaring his part in ridding the world of lesser beings.

Fiedler wanted those papers. Anything they could find to prove Neumann's identity, his role in the mass murders. Face shoved the reams into the briefcase he found under the desk and began looking through the remaining drawers. Mundane items - bills, notes on some work Neumann was planning for the house, appointment reminders - were tossed unceremoniously on the floor, along with the drawers they were in. He found some letters in German, dated recently. He shoved those in the briefcase. A swift inspection of the shelves yielded nothing of value.

No trophies? Nothing at all to gloat over?

He looked back at the carved box, still sitting on the desk. Had he missed something?

He picked it up, carefully examining the ornate designs. He turned it over carefully and found the inscription carved into the bottom corner.

"Aurek and Rasine, Warsaw, 1938"

Not Neumann's then. Rasine's wedding present? Anniversary? Whichever, the box had been given more care than its owners. When had Neumann confiscated it? Had he taken it from the couple, or found it among the stash of belongings later? Had he ever wondered about Aurek, or Rasine? Did they have parents? Children still alive? 

Had they packed their most precious possessions inside before departing for the camps? Had it held the important family papers - wedding license, birth certificates, deeds? Things they would need when they returned to their home?

Had they still believed the lies? Still hoped for a future?

Had they still believed in rescue?

He lay the box carefully on the desk, backing away, staring but not seeing, his fingers moving almost by themselves to the string of dog tags that should have been around his neck. He'd lost them, somewhere - in Saigon, in jail, that hospital - he wasn't sure where.

Harry's trophies. Dog tags of the men he'd destroyed. And the man he'd... None of which Harry needed or wanted in the end.

Worthless to him.

Worthless...

Who had those tags now? Had that pencil pusher in Saigon sent them back to the Army? Did some redneck in Alabama have them, bragging about knowing the guys who wore them? Did whoever had them know anything at all about those men? Did they even care?

Face closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Opened them to stare at that box. 

Neumann shouldn't have that box. It meant all the wrong things to him. And the people Fiedler would hand it over to - would they know anything about the owners? Would they see the people who put their possessions in there, hoping to save what meant the most to them? Or would it just be 'evidence' - proof of the monster Neumann and his kind were? Cold, hard proof. Nothing more.

It would say nothing to the bureaucrats and lawyers and politicians - nothing of real value. How could they possibly understand what Aurek and Rasine were like? What the days - hell, hours, maybe only minutes - meant when they realized what was happening to them?

Nobody deserved to have that box now. It belonged with its owners. The people whose love was put into that box.

Most likely all dead.

He grabbed the box with both hands and swung around, throwing it with all his strength against the solid wall of cabinets. The box burst into hundreds of splinters. Face stared at the huge scar in the cabinet door, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes, willing the buzzing to go away. Willing the anger to leave. Wishing...

"Well, that's one less thing to haul back with us."

Face didn't have to turn to know how Hannibal was looking at him. The same look he'd seen so many times over the last few months - half-angry, half-worried. Throw in a dose of confusion and frustration for good measure.

"Care to explain?"

"Everything Fiedler needs is in there." Face swung his arm in the general direction of the desk, where the briefcase sat.

"Okay."

Hannibal's voice was calm, quiet. As if that would help.

"Is he ready?"

"Yeah, he's ready. Just have to bring in the fridge." Hannibal paused, but Face didn't move. "I'll need help with that."

"Let's do it."

"Are you okay?"

Face finally looked at him.

"Just peachy."

*****

"Face..."

Hannibal hesitated, unsure yet again of the man standing in front of him.

"Yeah, Hannibal?" Impatient. Angry. Wired. Oh, yeah. Big time.

"This guy, Neumann - he's going to pay for what he did. After all these years, he's finally going to pay. And you're part of that. A big part."

"So?"

"So there's a lot of guys like him out there. Guys who pray on people who can't defend themselves. Guys who treat other people like dirt. Guys who'll get away with it, if we don't stop them. We can help the people they go after."

"I've heard the song and dance already, Hannibal. That's how you got us roped into this, remember?"

"Just reminding you, Face. We'll help people doing what we're good at. What we were trained for."

"I tried to help Kyle. All I did was get him killed."

Hannibal had wondered when that would finally come out. He slowly lit his cigar, resisting the urge to look at his watch.

"I understood a snake did that." Finally a reason to be glad he'd heard those nightmares.

"He wouldn't have gotten bit if he hadn't stayed behind with me. He would've gotten out, with Arnie."

"So he should've left you. Saved his own life."

"Yes!"

"Like we did."

Hannibal waited, knowing his statement could be taken several different ways. Knowing damn well Face hadn't considered the conundrum. Or maybe he had.

"Kyle was a sergeant. I was... he wasn't supposed to..." Face turned away, staring at the wreckage on the floor.

"I was your CO. I was supposed to look out for you. You, BA - and Wiley. You knew I would come back for you because that's what I was supposed to do. Just as you were supposed to look out for Kyle. You failed. I failed. So now what? Do we both spend even more years beating ourselves up because we only did what we could? That we acted on the circumstances and people we were supposed to take care of got hurt because of it?"

Hannibal sighed as Face continued to stare at the box. 

"You were sick, Face. You'd taken beatings and God knows what else to keep those men safe from the same things. I had two other men to think about - two men I knew were alive. I can't change what happened, but I can try to fix it."

"There are some things you just can't fix, Hannibal!" Face jerked around to face him, startling Hannibal as he saw the tears in Face's eyes. Anger? Sorrow? "How can I fix Kyle? He's dead! And I might as - " He stopped, glancing everywhere but at Hannibal.

"Maybe you can't fix Kyle, Face. Maybe you can't get at Harry. But you can get these other guys. You and the team - we can do something about them. Maybe that isn't enough, but - "

"No, it isn't enough." Face stared angrily at him. "It'll never be enough." He looked once more at the box on the floor, staring at it for a long time. Hannibal waited. Finally, Face sighed, grabbed the briefcase and started for the door. He stopped next to Hannibal, swallowing hard.

"But... maybe it's a start."

Hannibal silently followed him through the door, a soft smile on his lips.

*****

BA knew there was something wrong - well, besides this whole job. He hadn't wanted to come down here in the first place. Sure, the pay was good - if they weren't extravagant, they could live off it for four or five months easy. Not that long if Hannibal insisted on building up their supplies and munitions - man even wanted to find a damn warehouse to keep it all in. Like they were going to be some kind of damn army all by themselves. Well, that's what happened when you were in the military as long as Hannibal. Everything became a major operation. BA shook his head.

Damn "officer thinking" again.

He looked back up the road. Keep on track, BA. Hannibal and Face ought to be coming any time now, along with Neumann. If they'd even got the guy. He didn't like working blind like this. Even in Nam, they'd had ways of letting each other know what was going on, even if HQ didn't know. Hell, he might be stuck out here with Murdock for who knew how long, waiting to see if their plan had worked or not. If they'd gotten stopped, how long before Pereyra found out? He wasn't supposed to know anything about this part of it - how would he know if they'd gotten caught? Where they were held? If they were even alive?

They never should've come down here. They could've found something that didn't involve going to a foreign country - especially one where there was already fighting going on. Not that BA was afraid of a fight - but it had nothing to do with their job. Just another complication they didn't need. 

And kidnapping... BA sighed. Hannibal insisted it wasn't kidnapping - he called it "a simple retrieval". Right. They weren't mercenaries. No - they were bounty hunters now. BA didn't like either. Sure, Neumann and guys like him deserved to be hauled in, but still... This wasn't exactly helping the little guy, like Hannibal kept saying they should do. Fiedler was hardly a "little guy". Man had money up the ass. Hiring them to do his dirty work...

"Any sign yet, BA?"

Damn! BA jumped like he'd been shot.

"What the hell you doin here, man? You sposed to be with the plane!"

"Well, I was, but it's been almost an hour now. And it only takes a few minutes to get her revved up."

"And we may need every one of those few minutes - so you get your ass back there and have it ready to go."

"Okay, but..."

BA frowned at Murdock. He knew it. There was something wrong.

"What?"

Murdock sighed. "Nothing, BA. You just be sure to honk when you get close so I know you're coming."

BA frowned deeper as Murdock turned and trotted off toward the plane. He just knew they should've let Fiedler get them a pilot. What the hell had Face been thinking?

'Cause there was definitely something wrong with Murdock...

*****

There had been one 'iffy' moment, taking the refrigerator with Neumann inside out to the truck. One of the neighbors had come out to watch - made some comment that Hannibal only partially understood. Before he could try to make some reply, Face had come to the rescue.

"Hey!" He nodded angrily at the fridge and then the truck.

Hannibal had made an apologetic shrug to the neighbor, who frowned and went back into his own house. Hannibal grinned at Face, but it wasn't returned. He sighed. Face was apparently back to Strictly Business. Just as well - they were running late and BA would be having a fit. If Murdock hadn't driven him to murder already.

As Face drove the truck out of town, Hannibal thought about BA and Murdock. He was assuming they had been successful in getting the fuel truck and getting it to the plane and getting the plane fueled and... too many things to assume. He had every confidence in BA - Murdock was the wild card. Hannibal still didn't know what Face had had in mind, bringing him along. And now was probably not a good time to bring it up. Face, for all his business-like demeanor, was still wired and that was not the time to press him. On anything.

Both men started scanning the road as they approached the area where the plane was hidden. Pereyra had driven them down a barely discernible path, and they knew if BA wasn't at the junction they would never find it. It would take them maybe ten minutes to drive to the plane where Murdock would hopefully have the thing ready for takeoff as soon as they got Neumann aboard. A few hours later, a quick refueling in Costa Rica and then home.

Home. That really sounded good.

*****

Murdock wasn't comfortable with the colonel sitting in the co-pilot's seat. He'd liked it better when Face had been there, strangely enough. Neither one of them had said anything for most of the trip - Face had filled him in more completely on the job, but otherwise... The only downside was the silence left too much room for Murdock's Face to pop in with comments and suggestions. Trying to be helpful, of course; he was never anything but. He was just a little too persistent in wanting Murdock to talk about things with the real Face that neither the real Face nor Murdock was ready for. Sometimes Murdock's Face was as clueless about crazy people as most real people were - which was strange, considering he came from a crazy mind to begin with.

But Murdock liked having Face sit there. He knew Face wasn't trying to analyze him, wasn't trying to figure out if he was 'okay'. Either he didn't care or he was confident Murdock was okay enough to do the job. And he must have been sure Murdock could handle the flying or he wouldn't have come to get him. Unless Face had some kind of death wish, which Murdock had to concede wasn't impossible. But he didn't think Face would want to take the others out with him. Not that Face cared that much about them - Murdock didn't know what all had happened in the preceding months, or even since Face's first visit, but just the fact they were still alive must mean something.

No, Murdock was sure Face wouldn't want the others along for the Final Ride. He wouldn't want his death to be a "team thing". And that would be important to Face. Just from watching them during this trip, he knew that much. Face still didn't think of himself as part of the team and certainly wouldn't want his death to be.

So they were all safe, in that respect.

He glanced again at the gauges. He really, really wished Hannibal weren't here. Unlike Face, Hannibal would want to know why Murdock was trying the landing gear while they were still flying. Would want to know why Murdock was concerned about the various lights flashing when they shouldn't be - or not flashing when they should. And then Murdock would have to explain that something was wrong with the one strut, and that he didn't really know what. Just that it didn't look quite right. And then explain that Murdock hadn't mentioned it to BA so he could look at it.

In hindsight, he really should have - but then again, there wasn't anything BA could do about it anyway. Not out in the boonies like they were. And the take-off hadn't been too bad. No one expected that to be smooth, after all. Not like they'd been on tarmac. So really, all Murdock had to do was make sure they got back on the ground in one piece in Costa Rica and then BA and the airport mechanics could deal with it.

So that was okay then. He could resist messing with the landing gear and just fly on in to the airport. He wouldn't have to explain anything. They'd all assume it happened during the takeoff. They'd fix whatever was wrong in Costa Rica and then go home.

Yep. Just one more landing.

He'd done it a hundred times before...

*****

Hannibal sat in the cockpit, pretending to relax, watching the view. Face was watching Neumann and BA was watching Face. It wasn't that Hannibal didn't trust Face, or that he didn't trust Murdock. But he wanted Neumann deflated - Hannibal was too close in age and military background. Having an obviously hostile younger man coupled with a black man... Neumann would feel the defeat that much sooner. Defeated men rarely caused problems.

But Hannibal did want to keep an eye on Murdock. Not only because this was going to be a long flight, but because BA had said something was bothering the pilot. He couldn't be specific, but he was sure. There was something else on Hannibal's mind as well.

How long had Murdock known about Face? And why hadn't he told Hannibal?

Hannibal had entertained the notion for a short time that Murdock was seeing Face as just a figment of his imagination, a coping mechanism. A stretch, to be sure, but Hannibal had heard Murdock 'talking' to Face when the lieutenant wasn't even around. On the other hand, he seemed to have no problem interacting with Face as a reality. Their conversations were real world - no off-kilter comments from Murdock at all. So did Murdock realize Face was alive or not? And if he did, was it simply because Face had presented himself and Murdock had no choice, or because he had actually remembered things? And if that was the case, how much had he remembered?

Hannibal didn't say anything for a while. He just wasn't sure how to approach it. More of the dancing around he'd done with every visit to the VA. Ask the right questions but not too many; don't bring up things that might trigger the wrong memories; find out how much Murdock had remembered since the last visit without making it seem like an interrogation. Hannibal thought he usually handled it pretty well. The only difference is that now they were several thousand feet in the air...

Murdock, for his part, seemed to be fully involved in his flying. Actually concentrating on it. Now that Hannibal thought about that, it seemed odd. Flying was second-nature to Murdock - he paid attention to things but the way most people drove their cars. But Murdock was watching the gauges like a hawk, and there was none of his usual banter. 

How long had it been since Murdock had flown? Hell, must be almost five years now. Since he'd landed in the VA. Did Face realize it had been that long? No - why would he? Well, Murdock's concentration made sense now. Of course it did. He was a bit rusty, not quite as confident as before. Hannibal hadn't been in the cockpit on the way down or he would have realized it before. Damn good thing he had now - definitely didn't want to start asking questions about Face. No distractions. A little small talk maybe - ask about the fuel truck. BA had given them the gist of the adventure and it seemed to have gone smoothly.

Sure. He'd ask about the truck - safe topic, nothing that would really take Murdock's attention away from his flying.

Any other questions could wait until they were safely back in LA.


	17. Chapter 17

**June 21 1977 - 8 months, 14 days**

Hannibal was watching him again.

Murdock expected that. Yeah. And Hannibal would want an explanation. He knew the take-off had been a little rocky. And he knew Murdock was a little more hyper than usual as they touched down in Costa Rica.

He didn't know they could've gone belly down at any second.

Okay, so Murdock hadn't meant to cut the colonel off in mid-sentence, but he needed to get out of there. Before questions could be asked. Before answers were demanded that he just... just couldn't answer. So he'd cut him off, told him he had to get things on the ground squared away. He wasn't really worried about the refueling - the tower had assured him that would be ready to go as soon as he landed. But he hadn't asked them about a mechanic. Hell, no - not with Hannibal sitting right there beside him. So as soon as he turned off the engines, Murdock bolted out of his seat, called his excuses, and hurried to the tower. He was sure the mechanic could have whatever was wrong fixed in the time it took to refuel.

It couldn't be anything major, after all. They had landed okay... just okay, but...

No. Nothing major.

But he'd gotten Hannibal's attention all right. And much as he would have preferred to wait at the base of the tower for the mechanic to show up, he had to supervise the refueling. No pilot, crazy or not, left that to blind trust. He tried to be casual but professional in his demeanor as he approached the plane. He walked past Hannibal and over to the tanker crew, again ignoring Hannibal's attempt to talk to him. He knew Hannibal wouldn't follow - not yet, anyway. He'd let Murdock do his pilot thing in that 'mysterious world' of aviation that Murdock had cultivated back in Nam. None of the guys had ever seriously questioned his abilities or knowledge back then, even after that crash that left them in the POW camp. They'd trusted him then and it was important that they trusted him now. If he screwed this up...

Then the mechanic showed up and almost immediately Hannibal moved closer to the plane. All right, all right. No problem. It probably just needed a little adjustment. Maybe a loose wire. Nothing major. Quick fix and they'd be up in the air, right on schedule. No problem, Colonel.

"Murdock?"

Murdock sighed. Well, he'd done pretty well lying to Hannibal about Face - what was another little white lie? 

"Yeah, Hannibal?"

"Is there something wrong with the plane?" Hannibal didn't look suspicious - concerned maybe, but not suspicious.

"Oh, well, just a little electrical problem. The landing gear indicators were a bit wonky, probably from that, uh, earlier landing." He glanced over at the mechanic, who was absorbed in his inspection. "I just wanted them to check it out - don't need false readings screwing with my head right now, know what I mean?" He smiled sheepishly, shamelessly hoping Hannibal would take that I-feel-guilty-enough-don't-upset-Murdock-any-more attitude.

He did.

"Hey, you're doing great, Murdock. I have to admit I was a little... concerned when Face brought you along, but you've really shown you're ready for this." Hannibal smiled - a little forced, to Murdock's eye - and clapped him on the back. "Let us know when we can take off."

Murdock watched as Hannibal strode toward BA, who was stretching behind the plane, getting the kinks out. In the distance Murdock could see the security chief coming around the corner of the tower, followed by two of his men. Probably getting ready to report to Santiago. Or maybe that Amon fellow himself. Murdock sighed. Let Hannibal deal with that. He had enough on his - 

"Senor?"

He looked over at the mechanic and his heart sank.

Nobody looked like that when there was good news...

*****

BA kept pacing, watching the approach of the security guards from the corner of his eye. Just from the way that head guy was walking, BA knew there was trouble. Officers always had that look when they were getting ready to lower the boom. Even Hannibal.

As if on cue, Hannibal walked over, chewing on an unlit cigar. He narrowed his eyes as he, too, watched the security detail coming closer.

"Santiago?"

BA shook his head. "You know what that means, Hannibal. The deal's gone to hell."

"Now, BA, don't borrow trouble. I'm sure the heat's on - everybody knew that would happen. But Fiedler's contacts are solid."

"Yeah, right." BA shook his head, folding his arms over his chest as the security chief came to a halt several feet away. Hannibal smiled pleasantly.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Senor, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave."

"Uh, well, that was the plan, Captain. Right after we've refueled. I thought Senor Amon had - "

"Things have changed." The captain glanced back at the two men behind him, nodding. They moved toward the plane as the security chief turned back to Hannibal. He lowered his voice. "The Argentine government knows that you are Americans but they are claiming the kidnapping was orchestrated by the United States with Israel."

"And I suppose they're also claiming our 'guest' is not a Nazi."

"Of course - an American/Israeli witch hunt. Until the newspapers prove he is - then they will claim ignorance. But already there are international rumblings - all airports are on alert. So far, no one here knows where you went or where you came from - but the timing..."

"Yeah, understood. The thing is, we can't get to a friendly airport on fumes. My pilot says it takes an hour to refuel. Surely you can give us that much time."

The security chief hesitated. Even BA knew he was thinking about Amon, and couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. Caught between a rock and a hard place. If the team was discovered here, he'd be picking up dog shit in the local park. If he forced them to leave with inadequate fuel and they either crashed or got arrested at another airport, he'd be facing the wrath of some very powerful people. 

"Very well. As soon as the refueling is complete, you will leave. In the meantime, you stay with the plane. In fact, you stay on the plane. The fewer people who see you, the better. Do you understand?"

Hannibal nodded, and without another word, the captain turned on his heel and walked away. His two men, however, stayed by the plane. There was no mistaking their intent - hands were on their holsters, glaring at Hannibal and BA.

"Okay, BA, you heard the man."

"Yeah, great. I was sposed to spell Face - and he ain't in the best of moods already. That Neumann bastard's been talking to him, no matter how many times we tell him to shut up; I think he's trying to get Face to see the light." 

"Then it's a good thing we're all confined to the plane, isn't it?" Hannibal smiled calmly.

BA gave him a warning glare as he headed back to the plane. Sometimes the colonel was just too damn confident about Face's progress.

Way too confident.

*****

Hannibal watched as BA trudged unhappily up the steps into the plane. It was supposed to be intimidating, having both Face and BA back there. He didn't like the idea of Neumann talking to Face. Intimidated meant quiet. Defeated.

Ignoring BA - that was stupidity. Or arrogance. The old Aryan superiority asserting itself once again. Talking to Face could be desperation. And if BA was reading Face right, Neumann was achieving just the opposite of what he hoped to.

Neumann didn't know about Harry.

He turned, walking brusquely back toward Murdock. The security guard tensed as he came close; Hannibal smiled and pointed toward his pilot. The guard relaxed. A little. 

Yeah, the sooner they were out of here and back in LA, the better.

Murdock was talking to that mechanic, looking up, startled, as Hannibal came over. 

Shit.

Murdock looked pale, almost... scared. 

"What's going on, Murdock?"

"Uh, well... we, uh, we got a little problem, Hannibal." He looked at the mechanic, who shrugged. "There's a bit of a mechanical problem with the right landing gear."

"A bit?" Hannibal clamped down a little harder on his cigar. "Just what constitutes a bit?"

Murdock swallowed. "Well, this fella figures he can have the new part here by tomorrow afternoon."

For a long moment, Hannibal looked at Murdock. A dozen scenarios ran through his head at lightning speed - none of which ended in anything but big trouble.

"We don't have until tomorrow afternoon. See those two fellas with the uniforms and sidearms? If we don't leave when this buggy is done refueling, we're going to have a nice little trip back to Argentina, courtesy of the Costa Rican government."

"We can't - we can't do that, Hannibal! We take off before that gear is fixed, we can't land in LA."

"Can't?"

"Well, we can, but... but the gear may not work. No, the gear won't work!"

"We'll still have the other two, right? Is it possible to - "

"I don't know how good they are, Hannibal! I mean, that first landing messed this one up - we haven't even checked the other ones yet - who knows if they're any better. We could crash. I mean, we could crash big time!"

"Captain!"

The sharpness stopped Murdock dead. He stared at Hannibal, licked his lips. Hannibal stared back.

How long had Murdock known there was something wrong? Why hadn't he told Hannibal right away? What else was Murdock hiding from him? 

How long could Murdock keep it together?

He forced his tone to be calm, reasonable. "There must be some kind of temporary fix for this, something that will at least let us land safely. You talk to this guy," he nodded toward the mechanic, "and you get something worked out." Murdock started to protest, but Hannibal cut him off. "Delay the refueling as much as you can without raising suspicions. Got that, Captain?" Hannibal could see the defeat in his eyes - and knew it wasn't just because of the landing gear. 

"I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to. But if we don't get this bird off the ground..."

Murdock nodded, obviously unhappy but just as obviously seeing there was no alternative.

Hannibal turned to go in the plane, then stopped.

"Uh, Murdock - I wouldn't mention this to the guys. No point in... well, there's no need, right?"

"Yeah. Yes, sir."

Hannibal nodded and headed for the plane once again.

Next fire to put out...

*****

He'd wanted to belt the guy. Shut him up. Shut him up for good. But a look from BA had stopped him.

Yeah. Hannibal didn't want this guy damaged. Leave that for Fiedler's people.

Yeah.

Neumann had noticed BA's warning look, too. Watched as BA left the plane, then looked back at Face. Gave that little smile and started talking. Said he would need a bodyguard now. Chuckled when he said it. Actually chuckled. Then went on about how he could give Face the good life. Face wouldn't need to take orders from "someone like that" again. All Face had to do was let him go. 

So cocksure of himself.

And the way Neumann kept looking at BA throughout the flight... How could BA ignore it like that? That contempt. Like BA was dirt under his feet. Less than dirt.

Maybe BA didn't notice. Maybe he just wouldn't pay attention. BA was like that. He could ignore things. Didn't let it bother him. 

Neumann was droning on again. Something about Brazil. He had friends in Brazil...

BA was strong. Always had been. He didn't let things get to him. BA knew who he was, where he came from. But he could fight, alright. Let the little stuff go by because he didn't need to mess with that shit. But step over the line...

Harry never would've done... that to BA.

Never.

Neumann was still talking. Would the bastard ever shut up? Face opened his mouth, ready to tell him to go to hell. Stopped short.

Harry was sitting next to Neumann. Window seat. Of course. Grinning. Nodding as Neumann droned on and on and...

You're not real. You're not here.

Harry chuckled.

Face looked up as BA came back on board. Had he heard? Of course he hadn't. BA wasn't crazy.

BA said something about security. They had to stay on the plane. A knowing look from Neumann. Smirking son of a bitch.

Stuck on the plane. No chance to stop that buzzing, getting ever louder. No getting away from Neumann.

Or Harry.

Face closed his eyes, trying to focus on something, anything, except Neumann. Neumann, who started talking again, keeping his voice low. Not wanting BA to hear

_He waste his time._

Startled, Face looked at Neumann, who looked as if he were waiting for a response. Neumann, who'd sounded just like Harry...

"What do you mean, wasting his time?"

Neumann frowned. "I don't understand."

Face looked at Harry, who actually laughed out loud. Big joke. 

_He waste his time. He don't know. He don't want you. Nobody want you._ Laughed again.

"Shut up!"

BA looked over, frowning. Neumann looked confused. Nervous.

_Nobody want you. Nobody but me._ Harry licked his lips, leering at Face.

"I said, shut up!"

"What's going on, Face?"

Hannibal was standing beside him now, frowning. Face wanted to tell him. Show him. Make him see.

Make him understand.

But Harry was gone and Neumann was quiet, pale.

"Face?"

"Nothing, Hannibal."

Hannibal's sigh wasn't loud, but Face heard everything behind it. Just what the colonel needed. Another crazy going off the deep end.

"I must have dozed off. Sorry." Yeah. Blame it on the nightmares again. He didn't have to pretend embarrassment. Hannibal may or may not believe the lie, but BA knew.

"Well, don't worry about it. Everyone's tired. We'll be taking off as soon as the refueling's done. I'm going to sit back here for a while - maybe catch a nap myself. BA, you'll sit up front with Murdock. Gotta keep the pilot awake." 

Hannibal chuckled, but Face caught the look between him and BA. Keep Murdock awake? Sure. Like Face believed that.

*****

Murdock had been talking a mile a minute, but so softly BA couldn't hear the actual words. And he kept looking at the gauges, frowning. BA was tempted to ask if something was wrong, but didn't. The man might be crazy, but he was the only pilot BA felt safe with. Not that he'd tell Murdock that. But anybody that acted that crazy up in the air had to know what they were doing. It was the ones that had to concentrate on their flying he'd worried about. And, though he wouldn't say he was superstitious, why borrow trouble? Things had been going too smooth. And what always happened when Hannibal's plans started out smooth? They went south, sudden and fast.

Hell, look at Face. He'd been getting more and more hyper, and now... He hadn't dozed off. He'd been wide awake, shouting at somebody - and it sure as hell wasn't Neumann. 

Nazi camp guard... didn't take a rocket scientist to know what was going through the LT's head. BA had reminded Face a couple times that this bastard would pay for what he did. Thought that worked, 'cause he'd calmed down a bit. 

But he shouldn't have left Face alone with Neumann; he should've taken Face outside, let him relax. Face needed downtime. He wasn't ready for something like this. Hannibal should've thought about that. They should've walked away from this job, found something they could've done in a couple days. In LA. Plenty of ways to relax in LA, get away from the job for a while, not be stuck in the middle of it for days at a time.

BA sighed softly. Hannibal had told him to keep Murdock awake; he'd thought that was just an excuse for Face's benefit. But maybe BA was supposed to find out how Murdock was really doing.

"You okay, Murdock?"

Not exactly subtle, but then BA wasn't known for subtlety.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Real good. Um... why?"

"Just wondering. Long flight."

"Oh, yeah. Well, it'll be over soon. I mean, we'll be landing soon, so... you know. We'll be okay."

"You been doing fine, Murdock. Flying must come right back, no matter how long it's been."

"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Like riding a bike..." He mumbled something else, but BA didn't catch it.

"So, you ain't sleepy or anything? Hannibal said I should make sure you stay awake." BA chuckled, just to keep it light. Don't make the man think Hannibal didn't trust him.

"Oh, I'm awake all right. Don't think I could sleep if I wanted to... uh, I mean, it's just cool, y'know, being in the cockpit again. Can't get enough of that. Noooo sirree. Can't get enough. I love it!" 

BA never liked it when Murdock talked like that.

The sun finally disappeared altogether, leaving the cockpit dark except for a bunch of small lights on the dash. He couldn't make out much of Murdock's face and knew Murdock couldn't see him any better.

"BA?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Can you get Hannibal for me? I need to talk to him."

"You doin okay, Murdock?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Just, uh, I... I just wondered about the VA and all. Y'know, when we get home."

"Oh." BA stood awkwardly in the small space, looking at Murdock closely. He seemed nervous - but not crazy nervous. "Hannibal will figure something out. You ain't been gone that long - " He stopped short of saying "this time". He still didn't know what he could or couldn't say about that.

Murdock smiled, not very convincingly, and BA stepped carefully into the cabin.

Hannibal was seated facing Neumann, whose mouth was taped shut. Shoulda done that right from the start, but... Face was sitting further back, staring out the window.

"Hey, Hannibal, Murdock wants to talk to you." He lowered his voice. "Guess he's afraid of facing the music back at the VA."

"What?" Hannibal seemed puzzled but then nodded soberly. "I can imagine he would be. I'll go talk to him. Why don't you keep an eye on our guest?"

"Yeah." He glanced back at Face, who was now watching them. "How's Face doing?" 

"He's been sleeping, mostly."

"Real sleep?"

Hannibal sighed. "No. Keep an eye open."

"Yeah, just don't take too long."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing. BA was not in the mood for any of Face's shenanigans right now - not after nearly six hours of Murdock. Hannibal should know that.

BA sat across the aisle from Neumann, where he could keep an eye on both men. Neither seemed particularly interested. Neumann closed his eyes, ignoring him; Face turned back to the window.

Suited BA just fine. He was tired of waiting for the other shoe to fall.

*****

Hannibal settled into the co-pilot's seat and lit a cigar. It was the first chance he'd had to talk with Murdock since Costa Rica and he wanted to know everything.

"So. What did the mechanic tell you? Will we be able to land?"

"Oh, we can land. I'm just not sure in how many pieces. 'Course, we could always abandon ship; I think I saw some parachutes back there. Then again, we probably couldn't get the doors open without using some kind of explosive, so that kinda negates any - "

"Murdock, what did he do?"

Murdock sighed. "There wasn't time to pull it apart and see all the possible damage. He fixed what he could, said it should work okay. Once. And with those security guys shoving their weight around..." 

Hannibal recalled watching from the plane as the mechanic and some other airport stiffs had argued with the security people. Murdock had wisely stood to one side, saying nothing. Hannibal knew they'd overstayed their welcome - nothing anyone said would change the mind of that security chief. 

Murdock glanced behind him toward the passenger cabin, lowering his voice even more. "I tried putting the gears down a couple times when BA wasn't paying attention. Sometimes the indicators were all green, sometimes not."

"Can you land this thing on two wheels? I mean, without totally destroying it?"

"It can be done, yeah. We trained for it - but that was years ago, Hannibal. I'm not sure I remember all of it - or if I can do it even if I remember the steps. I mean, hell, you know how long it's been since I was in a cockpit! And I never ever flew one of these babies before. And we still don't know about the other two, and that landing strip ain't the greatest, and we don't know about the winds, or..."

"Calm down, Captain!" Stop that building panic and stop it now. "How long before we land?"

"About fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe. I was just getting ready to contact the tower. I'll have to let them know, so they can have the field cleared and... you know..."

"You want me to stay up here?"

"No. You better be in back with the others. At least one of you will know what's coming." Murdock hazarded a quick glare at him. "You should tell them."

"You think that will change the outcome? No, Face is on the edge already, and Neumann - well, no telling what he might try if he thinks he could die anyway." Hannibal glanced apologetically at Murdock. "Not that that's going to happen, but if he thinks it might... well, there's just no point in adding to the tension back there."

Murdock shrugged. "Your call, Colonel. But you better go now and get everybody buckled in, at least. It's gonna be rough."

Hannibal nodded and started for the back, hesitating. 

"I have faith in you, Murdock. Always did. Remember that."

*****

Murdock was talking on the radio when BA climbed back into the cockpit and sat down. He turned and grinned at BA, but BA thought he still seemed a little jumpy.

"Hannibal said it'd be okay, didn't he? He'll figure something out for you, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, he'll fix it. No problem." Murdock smiled, but it didn't seem quite right somehow. "Don't you want to stay in back with the others?"

BA raised an eyebrow at that but shrugged. "It's like a room full of cats and rocking chairs back there. Least up here I don't have to worry about somebody getting killed."

Murdock paled, and BA was immediately sorry he'd been so blunt. Kept forgetting Murdock had problems of his own and most likely didn't know all that had happened to the others the last few months. Probably remembering how Face had been before. If he remembered.

"Hannibal said we'd be landing pretty soon. Be glad to get back to LA again. Don't like these foreign trips. D'you?"

"I like any trip I can take." Murdock sighed. 

"Yeah, I spose you do. Well, least now we can work something out so you can get out some. I mean, now you got most of your memory back. Right?"

BA was fishing, and he knew it was obvious. Still, he had a right to know what was going on now, didn't he?

"Yeah. That would be nice." Murdock stared through the windshield for a moment, then straightened. "Um, I'm gonna be a little busy for a while now, till we hit - uh, till we land anyway. So - "

"No problem. You just do your thing and ignore me, man." BA leaned his head back, relaxing.

"You sure you don't want to sit in back?"

"Some reason you don't want me up here, man?"

"No! No, not at all. Just, uh... just buckle your seatbelt, okay?" He smiled again. And again, it seemed a bit off. 

BA buckled in, willing to let it go. He knew Murdock would be spouting all kinds of pilot stuff into the radio that he wouldn't understand. That was okay. Truth be told, he was a little excited about this landing.

He'd never seen it from the front row seats before...

*****

"What's going on, Murdock?"

Murdock frowned, concentrating on the radio. He knew that go-around would pop the secrecy balloon, but he had other concerns right now. The voice over the headphones confirmed his expectations.

"Right LG is hanging in the bay. Are you declaring an emergency?"

There was just one more thing he could try. He was pretty sure of the outcome though.

"Affirmative, tower. Want to try to jerk it loose before coming in."

A second's silence, then, "Affirmative."

One last question. "You got foam?"

"Negative. We can call for local assistance." A pause, then, "Uh, belay that. We're on our own, buddy."

Yeah, right. Fiedler and all the politics... Murdock pulled up and away from the airport, turning on the cabin speakers.

"Brace, guys! Gonna be a rough one!"

He glanced at BA, who was staring at him, open-mouthed.

"Hang on, man."

Murdock began pounding the rudder pedals - right, then left, right, left. The plane pitched like a see-saw, and Murdock saw BA's hands tighten over his seatbelt.

"Tower, clear for go-around?"

"Roger that."

"Murdock - "

"Not now, BA."

He flew past the tower one more time, glancing at his fuel gauges. Still too much for his liking, but the idea of flying circles around here in the middle of the night just didn't appeal to him. Pretty sure the others wouldn't care for it either. 

The headphones crackled again.

Gear down. Not that he was going to celebrate yet. 

He made a slow turn, heading back the way he'd just come. Land with the tower and hangars on his left. Aim for the left side of the runway. Hope to God he could keep it balanced long enough...

"Murdock - "

"Not now, BA!"

The runway just below them. Nose high, wings level. Cut the engines. The first jolt as the left tire hit the runway. Reverse thrust, brake - gentle, gentle, she's rolling nice, we made it, olly olly aileron - keep that wing up, keep it up, yeah, baby that gear until their speed was down, yeah, we made it! Slow it down, slow it down, yeah, baby, that's my baby, no worry, BA, just like a bike, man. Wing's going down, that's okay, left rudder, left rudder, keep it straight, yeah, we're fine, man, we're fine, just a little jolt here, that's all, that's all, just a little - 

Shit!


	18. Chapter 18

**June 22 1977 - 8 months, 15 days**

"What's going on, Murdock?"

BA got no answer and turned in his seat to watch the tower shrink behind them. He'd thought they'd been awfully high to touch down, but put that down to Murdock's being out of practice. Especially for a night landing. He would've shrugged it off if he hadn't caught Murdock's low question over the radio.

"You got foam?"

Now Murdock had his full attention. A tiny, ice-cold lump formed in his stomach as the plane rose, and Murdock flipped on the cabin speakers.

"Brace, guys! Gonna be a rough one!" He glanced at BA. "Hang on, man."

BA's hands tightened over his seat belt, as he stared ahead at the starlit sky. Seconds later, the plane began rocking from side to side, gathering momentum. About the time BA was ready to lose his stomach, Murdock leveled it out and began turning once more. BA prayed they were headed for the runway this time.

"Tower, clear for go-around?"

No. No, not a go-around. A landing. They needed to clear for a landing!

"Murdock - "

"Not now, BA."

Once more, BA watched, frustrated, angry - scared - as the tower went flying by. And once more, the plane flew out into the sky, making yet another interminable circle. Damn it, man, just land the thing!

"Murdock - "

"Not now, BA!"

Murdock hadn't used that tone with BA in... 

BA gripped the armrests, watching as the airport lights came into view. And then the runway, rushing at them. The eerie silence as the engines shut down sent goosebumps up BA's arms. They hit the runway with a bump BA felt the length of his spine, jarring his teeth. Murdock was mumbling, his voice getting louder and louder as they swayed down the asphalt, talking to the damn plane like - but they were going to make it!

"No worry, BA, just like a bike, man!" Murdock practically laughed.

BA wasn't laughing. He was staring straight ahead, watching as the nose dropped, the plane tilted to the right, dirt and debris flying up from the wing - and then everything heaved and they jerked wildly to the side, pitching down and over with dirt and metal and glass flying...

*****

For the briefest of moments, Hannibal wondered why he was hanging by his waist, his head resting uncomfortably against the window. The sharp ache in his head overrode any further thoughts, as did the pain across his mid-section. Flailing blindly, he found the back of his seat - or maybe the one next to him - and hauled himself painfully up to a mere tilt. An ill-considered flip of the seat belt catch dropped him between his seat and the one in front. Hard.

"Fuck!"

He heard an echoing groan from... somewhere. Pulling himself up by the seat backs, he finally looked toward the rear of the plane, the side of the seat at chest level. Why exactly it was positioned that way while he was standing, he wasn't sure - until it finally dawned on him that the plane was on its side.

Definitely not right.

"Hannibal?" The voice, while welcome, sounded strained.

"Yeah, Face." He peered through the dimness of the emergency lights in a vain attempt to see how badly Face might be injured.

"You okay, Hannibal?"

"Yeah, I think so. You?"

"Other than being in a sideways plane, just great."

From outside, he could hear shouting, and he was now aware of lights reflecting through the windows above his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the chaos he'd found himself in. 

"Check on, uh... on what's-his-name, will you? I gotta go up front."

Another time, he figured Face would have laughed at the sight of Hannibal trying to manipulate his way across the seats to the cockpit door. But then another groan came, and Face was on his own less-than-graceful - and apparently quite painful - climb over the seats, looking for 'what's-his-name'. 

"Bitte..."

Hannibal sent a quick glare toward the back.

My team better be okay, fucker, or you'll wish the crash had killed you...

In the few but long moments it took Hannibal to reach the cockpit door, the fog in his brain had cleared. Well, mostly - he resorted to brute force when the door wouldn't open before remembering he had to actually turn the handle. Even so, he had some maneuvering to do to lift and twist it open. His frustration only compounded the worry of what he was going to find on the other side. 

He never should've let Murdock come on this job. He planned on having a long talk with Face about that...

The door finally snapped, allowing Hannibal to push it up and away and climb forward. The first thing he saw was Murdock, leaning down from his seat, mumbling as he ran his fingers over BA's arm.

"Murdock - how bad you hurt?"

The fingers stopped moving, and Murdock dropped his head, staring at the mangled controls around him.

"I'm okay, Colonel. Probably bruised some ribs, but... BA's not so good."

Hannibal knew that just from seeing the tip of the propeller poking up over the seat back. He hadn't felt like this since Nam, but he reached around, placing his fingers on BA's neck.

And breathed a deep, shuddering sigh of relief.

"Hannibal?"

"He's alive, Murdock." He leaned forward, getting a closer look. "A lot of cuts - looks like the propeller clipped his head, but just a slice. Doesn't look deep, thank God. But his arm's wedged in there pretty tight." Hannibal twisted around, careful not to bump anything, and looked at Murdock's situation. "I'm afraid you'll just have to hold on until the folks outside can pull you out. There's no way I can get you down without both of us ending up on top of him."

"No problem, Colonel."

Hannibal grunted as he turned back to BA. Murdock's breathing was a little too forced; hanging from that seat belt had to be putting pressure on his lungs. And Hannibal wasn't totally convinced of Murdock's self-diagnosis.

"Can you brace yourself on my shoulder, Murdock? Take some of the pressure off that belt."

It took a moment, but then Hannibal felt Murdock's hand on his shoulder. The weight was more than he'd anticipated, but the slight tremble at least confirmed his suspicions. He hoped those guys outside would get in here, and quick.

"I'm sorry, Colonel."

"What?" Hannibal glanced up at Murdock. "What for? This wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, it was. I never should've come on this job. I shouldn't have let Face talk me into it. I just... I can't fly anymore. I should've known - "

"That's enough. Do you think for one minute I'd have let you come if I didn't think you were ready? If I didn't know you were the best damn pilot I ever worked with? What makes you think any other pilot could've gotten us down without killing us all?"

"But if I hadn't screwed up that first landing - "

"Yeah, landing on a piece of corrugated ground covered in rock is child's play, isn't it? Don't you go playing martyr on me, Murdock. Shit happens. Sometimes it just gets a little deeper than others."

The last thing Hannibal needed right now was Murdock losing it. There was going to be hell to pay at the VA as it was. He could just imagine Richter's next interrogation of 'Uncle Tyrone', trying to explain Murdock's injuries on top of his latest disappearance. How many times could he plead ignorance when he was practically the only person who had verified contact with Murdock? Suddenly the pilot had all kinds of friends on the outside? Sure...

He turned his attention back to BA, looking more closely at his situation. The head wound did indeed look superficial. They always bled a lot anyway. But that arm... There was something odd about it - hard to tell what with the debris covering it.

BA's eyelids fluttered and he moaned softly.

"It's okay, BA. Just lay still."

Hannibal put his hand on BA's shoulder, trying to be gentle. He had to keep him still. God only knew what internal injuries there might be. BA started mumbling, his head jerking spasmodically.

"Shh. You need to be quiet now. Let these guys get you out of here. Just lay still, Sergeant."

*****

He kept his eyes shut. Pain surrounded him and it seemed, however stupid, that keeping them shut kept the pain from taking over. Besides, he was afraid of what he would see if he opened them. The last things he remembered were Murdock yelling a mile a minute, the runway tilting suddenly, falling down below them, coming up again, then Murdock swearing as it disappeared in a tornado......

Noises around him. Muffled, contorted. He listened but they made no sense. Like the creaking of a ship. But they weren't on a ship. They were... someplace else. 

And the smells... Burning. Fuel, smoke... something else he couldn't put his finger on. Something... foul.

Another noise - no, a voice. Close to him. Very close. 

Hannibal?

"It's okay, BA. Just lay still."

He started to open his eyes, but the pain... 

A hand on his shoulder, pushing down. Not hard though. Just enough so he knew Hannibal meant it. Lay still.

And that meant he was hurt. Real hurt. But he'd already known that. Because of the pain.

Hannibal was okay. Must be, or he wouldn't be here. But Murdock? Face? Where were they? He tried to ask, but his lips didn't want to work right. His voice came out thick, wet.

"Shh. You need to be quiet now. Let these guys get you out of here. Just lay still, Sergeant."

An order. Okay. Okay. He didn't like it, but... He wished he could open his eyes. Wished the pain would let him. Not that he was ready to see what was happening. Wouldn't be so bad maybe - not with Hannibal here. Still, he kept his eyes shut, focused on the pain.

Anything to keep from seeing that propeller coming at him again. 

*****

Other than a large, ever-darkening bruise on his temple, Face could see no obvious injuries to their prisoner. Luckily for the bastard, he'd been sitting next to the cabin wall and not left hanging like the others. Face gingerly touched his own throbbing side; nothing to do now but wait for the rescue team to come get them out.

He looked over at the cabin door. He could barely see Hannibal's back, and couldn't hear anything but a low murmur of voices. He wanted to look through the window, see what was out there, but the ones above him showed only dark sky with flashes of light, the ones below nothing at all.

He swore again as Neumann grabbed his sleeve, drawing his attention away. He yanked his arm away, wincing.

"Bitte... help me..."

"You'll get help, right along with the rest of us. Now shut up."

"Please, I pay you! Get me out before they come for me. I pay you!"

Face's hand stung from the force of the blow. A momentary satisfaction at shutting the fucker up, followed by shame. He'd never struck a defenseless man before. Never.

Harry's soft chuckle came from somewhere behind him.

"Get us out of this, Hannibal," Face whispered, and it wasn't just the plane he was talking about.

*****

What happened over the next few hours was a mix of blurred and stark memories. Hannibal, stuck in the cockpit, keeping Murdock steady and BA still, could only listen helplessly to the commotion in the cabin. It was obvious what the priority was, and just as obvious what Face thought about it. Hannibal heard a lot of shouting - English, German, something that was probably Hebrew. 

Murdock shifted slightly above him. 

"Sorry, Hannibal." His voice was shaky.

"It's all right." He glanced at the cockpit window above him, and muttered, "Where the hell is the emergency crew?"

"They don't have one here. And, uh, 'someone' put the kibosh on calling in the cavalry."

Hannibal looked up at him, grimacing as his shoulder muscle pinched.

"Who?"

"Guess our Israeli friends out there." He nodded toward the cabin. "Politics, Hannibal. You know."

Yeah, Hannibal knew. Another thing to consider with the next client. He checked BA's pulse once again, glaring at the cabin door. If there was another client... 

Murdock shifted once again, and Hannibal's shoulder protested in response, all the way down to his ribs. He hadn't really thought about his own possible injuries up to now. Maybe he should have. The fog in his head was starting to make a strong comeback.

Then there were people swarming around the cockpit windows, cutting away at the metal shell. He felt Murdock's weight lifted from his shoulders; he couldn't remember being pulled out himself. He was hustled into the back of a pickup truck. A pickup, no ambulance. Thanks, Fiedler, you son-of-a-bitch. BA lay next to him; somebody was checking the sergeant's pulse. He didn't see Murdock or Face, and no one seemed to know anything about them. Moments before the truck jerked forward, a dark limousine skidded around the front end and raced away. Then the wind blowing over the bed of the truck, hot even in the pre-dawn.

The last thing Hannibal remembered was the sun coming over the top of the mountains, blazing in his eyes before he was manhandled through some glass doors. A strong smell of disinfectant hit him, and everything went black.

**June 25 1977 - 8 months, 18 days**

He wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but nothing - including a ruptured spleen - could keep Face in that room any longer. Hannibal was pissed about it, but they both knew he couldn't do anything with his ribs taped up and the last vestiges of a solid gold concussion. Thus Face had ignored the glare boring into his back as he wheeled determinedly past the colonel's door.

The halls were basically empty. A couple nurses checked in on them routinely, otherwise sitting at the desk at the apex of the semi-circle of rooms. They weren't happy with him either, and the knowledge of why made him both angry and embarrassed. 

Harry.

He knew - he absolutely knew - that Harry was not here. He couldn't be. No one else ever saw him. No one else ever heard him. He never left any evidence. All things Hannibal had - oh, so gently - brought to Face's attention over the last few months. Harry didn't exist anymore. And for a while, Face had started to believe Hannibal might be right. After all, he'd only caught glimpses of him; it could've been someone else. Or no one at all. A trick of the light. And his voice was a mere whisper on those nights when Face had done a little too much a little too soon, spent too much time around the guys, or out where people were. 

Stress. That's all Harry was. Face had really started to believe that.

Until this job. Then, no matter how hard Face tried to ignore him, Harry wouldn't leave him the hell alone. And now these nurses... they'd wanted to sedate him, for his own sake. Wouldn't listen when he told them no; wouldn't listen when Hannibal told them no. Kept trying to convince him he needed to rest, let the spleen heal... 

That one nurse really thought he was going to break her arm.

Then, of course, Fiedler had shown up. Big conference with Hannibal. The nurses left him alone after that. But Hannibal reminded Face that they were stuck there until BA was ready to go. Too much trouble and even Fiedler's money wouldn't keep their whereabouts quiet. Hannibal hadn't had to remind him of where they'd all end up then.

Face couldn't keep the nightmares away. Couldn't keep the walls of that sterile room from closing in. Not with the pain from his injuries and the trauma of the crash still battering his mind. The last two nights, he'd stolen into Hannibal's room, dozing in the wheelchair, Hannibal's presence keeping him alert to the first hint of Harry's appearances. And in the morning, before Hannibal awoke, he left, haunting the hallways, staring out the windows in the visitors' lounge, waiting until BA could finally leave.

**June 27 1977 - 8 months, 20 days**

If this had been an operation in-country, they would've called it a success. A huge success, actually. Any time a team could get back intact, and snag a prisoner in the bargain... Yeah, they would have had choppers and planes flying support, hauling their asses out, an Army hospital taking care of their every need, at least a couple weeks of stand-down to relax and celebrate.

But this wasn't Nam. Here, the ending was sloppy. The client wasn't supposed to save their butts, and Fiedler had. It had cost the man good money to take care of their medical needs, not to mention the favors he'd had to call in to keep them incognito. He hadn't complained, to his credit, but he clearly wasn't happy. 

Hannibal shuddered to think what could've happened - would've happened, most likely - if they'd had a different client. Clearly, the team had to rethink how they operated. 

Especially now when BA had declared he would never set foot on a plane if Murdock was the pilot. Put definite limits on their area of operations. Not that Hannibal blamed him. They could've lost him. Not that it was Murdock's fault. Not only had he warned Hannibal about that landing gear - he'd told him point-blank it was not going to hold. But Hannibal, literally under the gun, had relied on Murdock's past, not his present. Even now, he found himself thinking Murdock would have handled the landing better if he'd felt more confident about flying that plane. If he'd felt more confident about flying anything.

Hannibal wanted to blame Face for that, but he couldn't, not really. His logic had been good, and frankly, Hannibal felt a bit of pride in the way the kid had broken Murdock out. Then again, he hadn't taken into account Murdock's unfamiliarity with the plane or figured out how to get Murdock back into the VA. That had truly been a throw-up-your-hands-and-hope-for-the-best situation. In the end, Hannibal had sent Murdock back in a cab, with orders to be deliberately vague about the friend who'd checked him out. Richter would accept that when Murdock explained about the 'car accident'. He wouldn't be happy, but he'd accept it. And when Uncle Tyrone didn't show up for a couple more weeks, Richter wouldn't be able to connect this little adventure to him, either.

Yeah, all sewn up in a neat little bag. Except for BA's broken-in-three-places arm and sour temper to go with it. And Face seeing Harry every time he turned around, making him alternately jumpy and angry. Between the two of them, Hannibal was about ready for the VA himself.

He stopped outside BA's door. He could hear the voices on the other side. Not happy ones, either, although he knew they weren't arguing. Hannibal had been amazed at BA's patience with Face since that New Year's fiasco. Or rather, since Harry had come back. Hannibal had a niggling thought that maybe he'd never really left. Maybe BA figured he hadn't either; Hannibal hadn't missed the quiet chats those two had had, nor the fact that neither seemed to want Hannibal to see them. Keeping him out of the loop...

That had to change. 

So much had to change. 

He sighed again. They had to reconsider the rules of engagement. Had to. New set of those rules here in the States. New set of hazards. For jobs... for the team. He would make it work for all of them. He had to.

Hand on the door knob, he paused. A smile, slight and very brief, hit his lips.

No, Neumann hadn't turned out quite like he'd wanted, but damn it, it had felt good.


	19. Chapter 19

**September 9 1977 - 11 months, 2 days**

Face stared at the traffic moving past the apartment building. BA had gone to the gym; he'd been working out almost obsessively, getting his arm back in shape. Hannibal was out, somewhere, doing something. Sometimes he'd tell Face in great detail where he was going and why; other times he just said he'd be back 'later'. Sometimes that bothered Face, other times...

Right now, his mind was on the whereabouts of a different colonel. Face didn't know where he was, if he was even still in the Army. But he wanted to find him. Needed to.

The idea had been there for a long time now. He knew, in his more calm moments, that it was out in the realm of Murdock's thinking, but it stuck with him just the same. Particularly after Harry had been around. Maybe he couldn't do anything about Harry, but Wrenn? That was a different story. One way or another, he would deal with Wrenn, and pay his own debt at the same time. And with BA and Hannibal both occupied with their own problems, and the leash Hannibal had Face on getting longer and longer, it seemed like an opportune time.

So he began to drop subtle hints. A comment here, a 'just curious' question there. And, just as he had hoped, Hannibal took the bait.

Anything to help his lieutenant lay the ghosts to rest... 

**September 14 1977 - 11 months, 7 days**

They'd kept a low profile the last couple of months, realizing the delicate position they were in. The military had, as expected, been talking to Fiedler and the Israelis, but nothing had come of it. Fiedler said he knew nothing about the kidnapping and the Israeli government backed him up. At the same time, Fiedler was now on the "list", and combined with the fiasco south of the border, Hannibal had no intention of aggravating the man.The Army was left with nothing but suspicions and they could take it no further without causing international ramifications.

Hannibal smiled without humor.

The A-Team wasn't important enough to risk that.

Despite Fiedler handling the hospital costs, it didn't mean all the medical bills disappeared. BA needed physical therapy after the cast came off, and both Face and Hannibal had minor follow-ups. What money they actually ended up collecting from Fiedler drained away like water through a sieve.

The availability of jobs Hannibal could get without unanswerable questions being asked was extremely limited; he was reduced to occasional day jobs, when his age didn't work against him. Calls to various agents inevitably ended with the same admonishment.

"Nobody likes a disappearing act, Johnny. You gotta be there, waitin' for that phone to ring. Otherwise..."

BA still wasn't in any shape to work a regular job; his arm still bothered him, and his temper since the crash had been even worse. Recurring nightmares will do that to a guy. And Face... well, it was pointless to even consider that.

There was one option left, one Hannibal knew was risky. He'd still been in touch with some of their old war buddies, and one he knew Lynch had watched - Andy Harris.

Hannibal had always liked his former supply officer, even if he hadn't been the most efficient guy around. Andy had sheltered the team a couple of times during those first months after their escape. He had also been the one to get Hannibal his first bit part in the movies.

He well remembered a conversation they'd had one night at Andy's house in Alameda, when Andy mentioned the Army had been in contact with him less than a month before.

"Just more of the same, Colonel. You know - have I heard from you lately, do I know where you might be holed up, call if any of you contacted me, blah, blah, blah."

"That reward doesn't tempt you?" Hannibal had smiled, confident.

"Oh, sure, it does." Andy winked, but then looked embarrassed. "You saved my life, Colonel, getting me out of Nam like you did. Don't think I'll ever forget that, 'cause I won't."

Hannibal had never corrected that faulty assumption. He'd thought about it, especially during that time before they found Face, but had held back. Self-preservation was stronger than honor, sometimes. Andy might not have felt quite so loyal if he'd thought his savior was dead. Cynical, yes, but it was one of the things that had kept Hannibal and his team free. He'd take cynicism over prison any day.

So now, no agent, no jobs, money getting scarce... 

He called Andy.

**October 3 1977 - 11 months, 26 days**

Hannibal sat on a stool pulled back by the corner of the craft services station. His cigar, unlit, rolled slowly in his fingers. Back and forth. Back and forth. His eyes moved almost in sync with it, from one side of the small movie lot to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. He wasn't nervous. Watchful, but not nervous.

At the moment, Hannibal had little to do except watch, as he waited for the next crowd scene. His would be a face among a sea of faces again, but the pay was decent - and in discreet cash. Another three days of shooting, with as many different settings, and he'd have enough in his wallet to last the team another month, plus pay for the last of BA's therapy sessions. The relief he felt at that almost made up for the inability to totally relax. He could recognize most of the cast and crew by now, but having Andy close at hand made it easier.

He frowned, realizing only then he hadn't seen Andy for quite some time.

He stood, retaining the outward calm, unable to keep that inner voice from slapping him upside the head. Relying on Andy to watch for strangers and then losing sight of him. Stupid!

He strolled away from the relative safety of the lunch van, mingling with the other extras and crew. So far, all familiar faces. He looked toward the gate, knowing full-well he couldn't see it from this distance. Still, if the MPs were infiltrating, he'd see the signs early. A quick tap on the back nearly gave him a heart attack. Andy jumped back as Hannibal nearly swung on him.

"Sorry about that, Hannibal, but you'll never guess what happened!"

Hannibal's tension level immediately shot up, if that was possible, and he had to force himself to seem calmly curious as Andy dove into his story.

"Remember a while back we were talking about some of the guys from the base, the ones we'd lost track of? Wondering where they were, what had happened to them? You even mentioned that A-hole, Colonel Wrenn! Remember?"

"Yeah, Andy, I remember." A 'casual' conversation, how Hannibal wished he could find some of the guys that had seemingly disappeared. He'd hoped Andy would do what Andy always did - try to please his colonel. He started to relax, more interested now in what Andy had been up to. 

"Well, I got to thinking about it, and I figured you couldn't do any checking, not without getting the wrong folks' attention and all, so I did. I mean, I'd kinda like to find some of them, too, right? So anyway, I started calling around, following leads..."

Hannibal tried to concentrate on Andy's narrative, smiling to himself at the Sam Spade/007 style. Andy had really enjoyed this "assignment" - but would it lead where Hannibal wanted to go?

"Well, that's where I was just now. I got a call from the gate - a guy from Nha Trang showed up. Out of the blue, said he'd heard I was looking for some of the guys, and since he was in the area, just decided to swing by. How about that?"

"That's... that's great, Andy. Really... great..."

"Yeah, he's waiting out front, wants to grab some lunch. I thought maybe you'd like to come along. They won't be shooting your next scene for at least an hour yet."

"Who is this guy? Someone we actually knew, or..."

"Ted Ackman. I don't know if you remember him, but he was with Wrenn's outfit. That's what makes it so cool, right? I mean, you were wondering about Wrenn, and bam! One of his guys shows up!"

"Yeah. Um, Andy, not to rain on your parade, but don't you think it's a little, well, a little too coincidental?"

Harris' face fell. 

"Oh, God, Colonel. You think he's here to turn you in? But I never mentioned you or the team. Never!"

No, Andy was smart enough not to do that. But Lynch had been watching him...

"Tell you what, Andy. You go ahead and have your lunch with the guy. Tell him you know another guy that would like to meet up - make up a name if you need to. But let's set a time and place where I have a little more... cover, okay?"

"Sure, Hannibal. No problem." He sighed, crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I didn't think, I guess."

"No, you did good, Andy. I'm probably just being paranoid, but I can't afford not to be. And if he's legit, I definitely want to meet with him. Okay?"

"Okay. I'll head out then, and I'll make sure to pick a place where you've got an out."

Hannibal watched as Andy headed back to the main gate, once again looking for anyone who looked out of place, too casual. Three more days and the shoot would be over. Three more days of even more vigilance.

He could feel the headache already starting...

**October 11 1977 - 1 year, 4 days**

BA listened to make sure the shower was still running, then glared at Hannibal, sitting at the end of the couch.

"You know damn well that wasn't a coincidence. They're trying to smoke us out through Andy."

"Probably." Hannibal sighed. 

"Meetin with that guy in the first place - that was just dumb, man. And lettin Ackman decide where to meet..."

"I know, BA! But I had to know what Ackman was up to - not to mention the fact he might actually know where Wrenn was. It was a chance I had to take, and it paid off."

"Damn near got us all caught, y'mean. No way two of us could watch that whole park. Nothin but fuckin trees! If it hadn't been for Face..."

"Yeah, he and I need to talk about that. Again."

"Or maybe you need to stop putting him in those situations. He ain't ready for that and you know it."

Hannibal opened his mouth and shut it immediately. He was not going to get into that 'discussion' again. Not now. He ignored the smile of satisfaction on BA's face. It was almost immediately replaced by a glower anyway.

"Don't know why you keep looking for Wrenn, anyway."

"You know damn well why! Wrenn had something to do with that robbery fiasco; we have to find out what, some way. At least now we know where he is. And he's retired from the Army, with a cushy job to keep him put. I can take my time."

"To do what?" BA suddenly glanced toward the bathroom; the shower had stopped and damn, BA didn't know when. He lowered his voice, nodding his head at the door. "And without him knowing about it?"

"I'll figure something out." 

BA was silent for a moment, then looked Hannibal in the eye.

"What you think he'd do, if he knew?"

"I don't intend to find out, BA."

*****

Face stepped quietly back from the door, the towel in his hands twisted into a tight rope. 

Another lie.

Hannibal had told him, point blank, that they were just checking out a new client. Face should've known there was something wrong. He couldn't understand why this guy was so important Hannibal would let him decide where and when to meet, why Hannibal let them walk into an obvious trap. 

Face had had to take out three MPs before he got to that captain, kept him from issuing any more orders. 

That look from Hannibal when he found out what Face had done. Couldn't see the effort it had taken not to cause any real damage. Telling himself - no, screaming in his head - it isn't Harry. It isn't Harry. It isn't...

First one, then the next, and the next. And then the captain, with that uniform. Making sure he left them all alive. Silent, but alive. All of them. And still Hannibal hadn't been happy about it.

And now to discover there was no client. Hannibal was actually looking for Wrenn. If Face had known that... Why hadn't Hannibal just told him? That's what Face had been hoping for, why he'd put out all those hints, working the colonel to get Face that information. And instead...

Lies. Again. Fucking lies!

Furiously, he turned and started wiping up the floor. 

**October 12 1977 - 1 year, 5 days**

The captain almost stepped back when Longway slammed the report down on the desk and stalked to the window. It was obvious the major's near obsession with capturing the team was taking its toll on his aide as well.

For his part, Longway was feeling intense pressure from the higher-ups to bring these men in and collect that money. The North Vietnamese were being ass-holes about the MIA issue and, while the military had so far not informed government officials of the possible recovery of the money, they weren't letting Longway off the hook.

Damn. He'd come so close with that Neumann thing. So close. But no amount of pressure would get that guy to come clean; then the damn Israelis had gotten involved, followed by the State Department. Couldn't do a damn thing there, not without letting the Feds know about the money. 

And now another close call - Ackman. Longway had been skeptical of wasting resources on the guy from the start; he seemed like just another greedy jerk who thought he could collect the reward. But then he'd told them he'd known a Colonel Wrenn - the guy who'd started the whole ball rolling back in Nam.

That got his attention. Further investigation brought in Andy Harris, the team's former supply clerk, and his snooping around for info on other veterans and particularly Wrenn.

Two plus two was making a nice solid four.

Harris had been less than forthcoming, refuting Ackman's claim that this particular friend wanted to meet up with them, saying only that he was trying to arrange an informal get-together with "some of the guys". Luckily, Harris hadn't asked for a lawyer, and was put on ice for "further questioning" while Longway prepared for Ackman's meeting.

It should have been easy. The park was a perfect set-up, situated on a corner with heavy woods on three sides of the concessions area. Easy for vehicles to pull up and surround the guy, easy for more MPs to come up on him through the woods. And too big for the other two team members to cover effectively.

Easy. Just wait for team to show up and pick them off.

Except Longway had forgotten Peck. At least, not considered his participation. The last he'd heard of the lieutenant, he was a basket case. But one of the downed soldiers had positively identified him. Smith apparently had gained some control over the man, and Peck was obviously quite capable of dealing with any challenges Smith handed him.

So while Ackman had been spilling the beans to Smith, confident that any information on Wrenn would be useless to men in the brig, the rest of Smith's renegades had been putting the kibosh on the whole operation.

"All right. Get Lynch in here. I need to make him more visible." He glared at his hapless captain and the bandage over his eye. Sighed. "So how's your head?"

**November 17 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 10 days**

Hannibal had looked at him rather suspiciously, but there was no reason to say no. Face had made two earlier trips, alone, to see Murdock, both without incident. That Face was going to take Murdock to dinner and a movie and thus wouldn't get back until later that night didn't set too well with the colonel. He had no problem with Murdock seeing "Pete's Dragon" - whatever ideas it gave Murdock's imagination would be relatively harmless. He did wonder if Face would actually be able to sit through it, but in the end, he said yes because he knew Face would go anyway.

Face was still willing to play his role, but only to a point. Hannibal had no illusions about that. But the Ackman incident had changed something - he'd taken a bit of a step backwards. Hannibal wasn't sure why, since no one had told him who the "client" really was, but there was something...

*****

Face drove carefully, mindful of the road, the traffic around him, and any suspicious vehicles. He tried to keep his concentration on those things, not let anything else enter his mind. Not even the upcoming events and the possible difficulties they might pose. And especially not Harry.

He made a quick turn, parking Hannibal's junker on the street closest to Murdock's building and hurried inside. A quick check at the desk that their little outing was still on the schedule - ie, Murdock hadn't pulled any last minute shit - and he was knocking on the pilot's door.

"Hey, Face. Everything okay?" 

Face took a quick look at him. Murdock's hair was a bit longer than usual, but otherwise he looked fine. Better than the last visit anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, I want you to go to that movie on your own tonight. I'll give you money for dinner and the ticket and whatever else. Just be sure you come right back here after. No excursions."

"What? Wait, no, we were - "

"I know! But I just need some time alone, okay? No Hannibal, no BA..." He paused. "And no you. No offense but I can't take the whole social thing right now."

Murdock looked at him, eyebrow cocked. He'd thought Face was getting better with that, but maybe not. He looked okay, but there was just a bit of that... edge to him.

"You aren't gonna go look for some 'action', are you?"

"No, Murdock, I'm not going to go looking for some 'action'. I just need some time to myself. And Hannibal can't know about it."

"Oh, now wait a minute..."

"I mean it, Murdock. He'll call you, like he always does." Hannibal didn't know Face knew he was checking up on Face's outings. Dumbass. "And when he does, you can tell him all about the movie because you really will have seen it. And I was there with you, but I slept through most of it. Got it?"

Murdock was going to argue until the 'Got it?'. No mistaking that tone. "Okay, okay."

"One last thing - we spent some time in the day room after, just gabbing."

"Face... "

Losing patience with both Murdock and being shut in his room, Face played dirty.

"You want to get out for Thanksgiving, Murdock? Because I can fix that, one way or the other."

Talk about carrot and stick. Murdock hadn't been sure they'd let him out for this movie, let alone for the holiday. And Face could indeed fix that either way.

"Okay. We went to the movie, you fell asleep, then we talked."

"Good. I'll swing by and let you know when I'm on the way back so we get our time frame straight."

"You act like this is some kind of mission instead of just playing hooky."

Face was taken aback. For him, it was a mission, but he didn't want Murdock thinking along those lines. He shrugged, pretending embarrassment.

"Sorry. I just really don't want any grief about taking some time for myself. That's all."

Murdock relaxed. Hannibal really had been keeping close tabs on him, almost like when they'd first found him.

"Don't worry, muchacho. Your secret's safe with me. Just be... careful."

Five minutes later, Face was pulling onto the PCH, destination Point Mugu Naval Air Station.

*****

Murdock hurried to grab his cap and jacket, nearly forgetting to grab the money Face had tossed on the bed, knowing full well he was supposed to be leaving with Face, not after him. His hope that the desk clerk hadn't noticed was quickly dashed.

"Everything okay, Captain? Your ride just left."

"Oh, he's just getting the car. This place makes him nervous." He winked and smiled. That last part, at least, wasn't a lie.

"Ah, yeah. Lot of people like that." The clerk smiled back, reassuring. "Enjoy yourself, Captain. Uh, no side trips, okay?"

"You better believe it, Jake. No problemo!"

Murdock hurried out the door, skipping steps down to the sidewalk. He took a right, waving as if to a waiting car, and quickly moved out of sight of the door. He knew where the theater was, thank God, but it was a good twenty minute walk. He could have a quick bite at one of the cafes nearby and still make it to the opening credits. And he would watch every second of it, so he could tell Hannibal all about it.

Yeah.

He really didn't like lying to Hannibal. He'd done far too much of that the last few months, and it generally had gotten him nothing but trouble. Big trouble. But he also knew Hannibal could get really, really, well, colonel-ly. All things considered, he should be surprised that Face hadn't pulled a disappearing act before this.

As long as he came back, Murdock was okay with it.

As long as he came back.

Shaking that thought away, he forced himself to look around, enjoy his own freedom. It was the first outing since the Neumann thing, and boy, it felt like a miracle. Richter had been royally pissed when Murdock got back. He accepted the car accident excuse for the cracked ribs, barely. But no way would he accept that the faked suicide call was merely a coincidence. Murdock had really been afraid Richter would call it quits, assign him a different shrink and walk away. He hadn't, maybe because he could see Murdock was hurting, but it was over two months before Murdock could go anywhere without an escort. A close escort. Hell, he'd only been allowed outside by himself a month ago.

He sighed. He'd been lucky. He could've ended up in the security ward again. And having that escort, irritating as it had been at times, had probably saved him. Literally. Murdock obviously couldn't talk about Argentina or the plane crash, but he could talk about not being able to fly when it was who he was, and about letting the people most important to him down. About not being able to have the life he wanted, even when he knew he had what he needed. Mostly.

And of course, all of that was reported back to Richter. Murdock wasn't sure if that's why he talked about it, or if he was really just trying to figure it out for himself. But it opened new avenues for Richter, for better or worse.

But now - if anyone here found out Face had just taken off without him...

No, he'd go eat, see the movie, go back to his room, and that would be that.

'Cause he really, really wanted to spend Thanksgiving with the guys. He had bridges to rebuild...

*****

It took almost an hour to reach Point Mugu, then another twenty minutes to find a bicycle to "borrow". He was thankful he'd forced himself to spend time at the library, looking up maps of the base. The area he needed to see - along the runways and also the flightline - could not be reached by car. But no one would pay attention to a cyclist checking out the path along the wildlife preserve. 

He was nearly to the end of the path, running parallel to the runways, when he saw it. A back gate, looking like no one even remembered it was there. He noted the lock and chain holding it closed and grinned. He wouldn't deal with that now - but he'd come back prepared for it. He glanced at the sun, frowning. He needed to head back to his car, but there was a lot he had to see first. He started pedaling back, stopping occasionally to walk the bike when he wanted a more thorough look at the surroundings. Quick notes were jotted in a pocket notebook, making a show of looking at the reserve on the opposite side of the path. Probably not necessary, but he'd rather anyone watching considered him a nature lover than a spy.

He left the bike a couple blocks from where he'd found it. No sense returning to the scene of the "crime" and finding an irate owner waiting for him. He hurried back to his car, then, and sat inside, studying his notes. Every now and then he'd nod, grinning.

He carefully tore the notes into small pieces and started back to LA, scattering the pieces out the open window. 


	20. Chapter 20

**November 18 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 11 days**

Hannibal listened closely at the door to Face's bedroom. Not a sound. Almost automatically, he carefully tried the door.

Locked.

He let out a long breath and proceeded quietly down the short hall to the kitchen and started the morning coffee. Over a year now and Face still couldn't let go of some habits. It worried Hannibal; he knew what they stemmed from and there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do to change it. And they'd gotten more pronounced since Ackman.

And then last night...

Hannibal was certain Face had not gone to any movie. Oh, Murdock had assured him they had both enjoyed their evening out, even "admitting" that Face had slept through most of the movie. Uh-huh. Yet another thing to get straightened out. He didn't want Murdock lying to him again.

So where had Face gone? He was fairly certain it hadn't been on what Hannibal privately called a 'hunt'; he'd know for sure when Face got up. But when Face finally got back last night, late, he'd clearly been wound tighter than a drum. He could be heard roaming the apartment, locks clicking on and off, blinds rattling as he checked the windows. And pacing. It seemed like hours before he stopped and Hannibal had heard his door shut. 

No, he'd been up to something last night, something he did not want the rest to know about.

"So you gonna ask him where he was?"

Exasperated that he hadn't heard BA come in, he snapped at him. "If you're such a mind reader, you should know the answer to that."

BA gave him that look and sat, glancing down the hall. "He knows something's goin on, Hannibal. And you know what always happens when he thinks you're not tellin him something he should know."

"Yeah, I know. Hell on earth until he finds out what it is. But this time it's not going to work. I can't chance it, not the way he felt about Wrenn - and vice versa."

"You don't spose he's lookin on his own for Wrenn, do you? I mean, he was the one brought him up to begin with."

"Who knows? I don't think he'll find him, though. It's not like he can take the route we did." He pulled a cigar and lit it, chuckling. "Gotta admit, I'm looking forward to writing Wrenn's version of Paradise Lost."

"That's bad, Hannibal, even for you."

*****

Face had awakened the second he heard the door handle turn. He relaxed only slightly when no further attempts were made, more so when he didn't hear Harry's familiar chuckle on the other side. No Harry. Must've been Hannibal then.

Figured.

He dressed reluctantly, knowing he would be interrogated about last night, about how late he'd gotten back. About his 'behavior'. No one had been up, but he knew Hannibal had been awake. Just like he knew the colonel would have called Murdock bright and early this morning. He did wonder, briefly, if Murdock had stuck to their story. Knew he had; Murdock was too desperate to be Face's friend. That didn't mean Hannibal had believed him.

He heard BA rumble past the door, heading for the kitchen. Okay. A little stealth right now might give him some intel before bearding the lion. Always good to know Hannibal's mood before a confrontation. Sidling down the hall, he stopped when he could hear their voices clearly.

Frowned. 

Wrenn. They were talking about Wrenn. Confirming what Face had thought - keeping it from him. Keeping him from Wrenn. What right did - 

'Paradise lost'?

What the hell...

**November 24 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 17 days**

It was long drive to the VA when stuck inside a used van whose seats had not been a priority for the owner. BA claimed it would outrun anything the Army had, and Face thought that more than likely true. It didn't make the ride any more comfortable.

Especially since he was far past enjoying the present company.

Hannibal had not believed the story about 'movie night'. He couldn't come right out and say it, of course, and he tried to cover his disbelief. Still trying to build that trust, still feeling guilty. But Face hadn't been 'allowed' out of sight of either Hannibal or BA since then. Every time he tried to get out by himself, there was something to prevent it. No outright, "No, you're not going anywhere alone, bub.". But always something, something reasonable, something they all had to attend to.

San Ysidro, all over again. Almost.

This time, Face had a plan.

Okay, two plans. But one at a time. That was the key. Stay focused. That's what had always gone wrong before. Let too many things into his head at once. Then again, focusing too hard on one thing made him lose track of the side issues and they tended to bite him in the ass. He frowned. That's why so many things went wrong, over there. Blinded him to things he needed to watch. Like watching the path instead of what was coming...

"Face? You with us?"

He jerked to attention. Hannibal, of course. Watching him. Another side issue.

"Yeah, Hannibal. Where else would I be?"

Look out the window, ignore the look, cut him off before he started asking questions. Think about Plan A.

Murdock...

*****

Hannibal sighed, ignoring the look from BA. Yes, BA, he knew Face was spacing out again. And yes, BA, he knew it was happening more often. And yes, BA, he knew it was his own fault for going to see Ackman.

He stuck a cigar in his mouth, unlit, and watched as they pulled up to the VA.

Show time.

"Okay, Face. You or me?"

Face blinked. "Uh, I thought it was me."

"So, who are you, anyway? You don't seem to have any problems getting what you want here."

Ha! There. A smile, with a little glint of pride...

"Murdock had a co-pilot - easy to verify. I'm the guy's brother, doing him a favor."

Hannibal grinned as Face stepped out and headed for the front door.

One step forward...

*****

And two steps back.

Step one was Murdock. For some reason, he seemed to think they were going to have a 'good old fashioned' Thanksgiving, complete with a huge turkey, dressing, hand-made pies - the works. Worse, he thought he was going to do the cooking.

Hannibal patiently explained - and kept explaining - that this year it was just having time together, relaxing. Pre-cooked turkey that just needed warming, bakery pies - the only real cooking was throwing some potatoes in the oven.

Murdock was having none of it. Even at the VA they had "real" turkey!

BA was close to putting Murdock through the wall; a look from Hannibal and he stalked off to the living room, turned on the game and ignored them.

Murdock was still stalking around the kitchen, loudly proclaiming his displeasure with a "half-assed' holiday, and Hannibal started to explain yet again. And then...

"Murdock."

'That' voice from the doorway - the one they all knew so well and dreaded.

Murdock immediately shut up; Hannibal tensed. He saw BA get up from the couch, ready.

Face just looked at Hannibal, as if to say, "Control your man", before walking past BA to his room. BA rolled his eyes and went back to his game. Hannibal again turned to Murdock, who was reaching for the spuds.

"Sorry, Colonel. I'll just scrub these up so they're ready to bake." No more anger - subdued, deflated.

Hannibal just nodded and stepped outside for a cigar. Second step...

*****

Face leaned against the door, eyes closed. Tight. 

Don't do this. Don't. Just... don't.

He had to keep his wits about him this weekend. This long, long damn weekend. No. No. He had to keep calm, had to make sure Murdock stuck with the "I want to be your friend" line. He had to have Murdock cooperative or his plan would never work.

He wasn't sure it would anyway, but it didn't have a chance if Murdock wasn't on board.

He gave himself a couple more minutes to get his shit together, then headed out to make nice.

BA was still watching the game. He gave him a long look, nodding when Face shrugged and tried to look apologetic. At least BA seemed to get it, knew Face could deal with only so much bullshit before things got rocky.

Well, hopefully that would be done and over soon.

He wandered toward the kitchen, stopping at the doorway. Hannibal was nowhere to be seen; Murdock stood at the sink, whistling softly as he scrubbed the potatoes. Face cleared his throat. Murdock stopped scrubbing but didn't turn around.

"Hey, Murdock... sorry about... earlier. I, uh..."

"No problem, Face. I was out of line. Doc says I gotta learn to reign in the 'tirades', as he calls them. And after all," he smiled at Face, "it's not the food, it's the people, right?"

Face smiled back. This was harder than he'd anticipated, but at least Murdock was playing along. "Right. The people."

Thankfully, Hannibal came in just then, decided it was time to get the food going, and suggested, rather pointedly, that Face could keep BA company. The relief was not quite hidden when Face nodded and did as he was 'asked'.

*****

The ballgame droned on, right through their dinner (served on TV trays), and the only conversation centered on what the various players should or shouldn't have done. 

Hannibal was beginning to think the weekend would move along more smoothly. Murdock had calmed down, and since that source of irritation was gone, he figured Face would be okay. BA was happy because the Bears had won - and by a good margin. Everyone was feeling the effects of the turkey, relaxed and sleepy.

Yeah. Relaxed...

"Hey, Hannibal?"

Quiet voice, obviously trying not to disturb BA or Face, as the television murmured in the background. 

"What is it, Murdock?"

"Um, this place is safe, right? I mean, Lynch..."

"Lynch is back at Bragg."

"You know that for sure?"

"Heard it from Casey Lloyd. Remember him? From Nam?"

"Kinda. How'd he know?"

"Still wearing the uniform, nice safe desk duty. He's been in touch with Andy, and Andy lets me know any scuttlebutt he hears. Casey said Lynch got called back there shortly after that mess in the park."

Murdock giggled. "Poor guy got his ass in a sling?"

Hannibal smiled. "Yeah, probably. Casey figured he'd be back in a few days. The brass is getting antsy." No point mentioning some new guy Casey had also heard about. Worry about that if the guy actually showed up. He turned back to the movie, listening to BA's low snore. Felt Murdock move a little closer on the couch.

"How did that meeting work out? Did he tell you anything?" 

Both looked over at Face, maybe ten feet away in the recliner, asleep.

Not willing to take the chance, Hannibal nodded toward the kitchen. Both men very quietly and gently got up. With Murdock close behind, Hannibal continued out onto the patio, taking one more look before closing the patio door.

"So?"

"Okay - let's get one thing very clear first. This goes no further - Face does not hear one syllable. Understood, Captain?"

Murdock swallowed at the serious tone and the 'Captain'. "Understood, Colonel."

Hannibal hesitated, double-checking. Murdock wasn't "out there", but focused. Serious.

"Ackman never lost touch with Wrenn. Actually worked for the guy after they got out, some big real estate company out in Paradise, Nevada. He's sitting fat and sassy in a top floor office."

"So, you going after him?"

"Oh yeah. Not right away though." Hannibal glanced at the patio door. "Guy's not going anywhere, probably doesn't even think about us any more. But now's not the time for us to bust his bubble. As soon as I can, I will."

" 'I' as in just you? Not the team?"

"Not the whole team, no. Last thing we need is a murder charge on our backs."

Noting the suddenly pale Murdock, Hannibal moved back into the house. He could've phrased that differently, but at least Murdock understood why Face could not learn of this.

He took a long careful look at Face before settling back on the couch. Still sound asleep.

Good. Very good.

**November 27 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 20 days**

It had been three days of hell. Face had been bouncing around in his head like a basketball. Anger, excitement, anxiety, joy... And trying to hide it all from the others. Had to hide it. Things were complicated enough.

Plan A and Plan B were suddenly, maybe inevitably, mixed together. The naval base was supposed to show Hannibal that Face hadn't lost his touch, that he could plan an operation just as well as he used to. That he wasn't a 'basket case'. At least not in that area. He still wasn't sure why that was so important to him, but it was. Therefore he would do it. That he would also be able to get Murdock back in the air, in something he could fly as easily as most people drive cars - well, he owed Murdock that. He wouldn't have chosen that plan otherwise.

And it had been the perfect plan. Still was. So they wouldn't fly around and land at that little crop duster's airfield now. No, instead they'd be flying east. He'd figure out exactly where in the next few days. And then Plan B would kick in. Murdock could sit at the airport until Hannibal found him, or take the bus back to LA. Didn't matter. His part would be done. Once in Nevada, Face would take it from there.

He smiled grimly. Hannibal hadn't been as quiet as he thought - never was. Murdock was worse. Neither had noticed the open kitchen window, or that Face wasn't in precisely the same position when they came back in.

The little things always mattered. 

**December 2 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 25 days**

"Okay, Andy, thanks. No, nothing to be concerned about. We knew he'd be back - always is." Hannibal chuckled as he hung up the phone. BA looked up, questioning; Face kept playing solitaire.

"Lynch is back in town."

"So?"

"So Andy's all paranoid since... well, he thinks something's up. I guess Lynch came in on private plane with some other brass. A major. Landed at Mugu last night."

Face reached down and picked a card up from the floor.

"Mugu? Don't tell me they got the Navy after us now!"

"Relax, BA. Alamitos is still getting re-organized and the Navy can't be bothered with us." Hannibal frowned as he lit his cigar. "Like to know who this major is, though. Andy seemed to think he was working with Lynch."

"Thinks or knows?"

"Thinks. But if Lynch picked him, I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"Got that right..."

Face, apparently bored, tossed the last card down and moved down the hall toward his room. BA sat silent until they heard his door close.

"Guess he don't care about Lynch or the new guy."

"I'm not sure he cares about anything any more, BA. Boy needs a hobby."

"Yeah? What?"

"We need to get ourselves prepared for new clients. We need a real headquarters, not just whatever place we end up in. A safe place, so we can store our equipment and firepower. Hell, we need to gather the firepower."

"We got guns."

"We have what we can get from guys that don't want or need stuff. And not all of it's in good condition. No, BA, it's time we put our supply officer back in business."

BA left no doubt how he felt about that idea. Hannibal was surprised the glass in the door didn't break.

*****

Face stood before the window, staring out but seeing nothing. Nothing except that airfield. And a private plane, just sitting there, waiting...

It was too good to be true. Prove to Hannibal that he still had what was needed, get Murdock back in the air, and give Lynch a kick in the ego - all at one fell swoop. But how long would the plane be there? That wasn't the normal transport. No, it would be going back to Bragg and soon. He had to put his plan into action. Now.

He knelt by the air vent, carefully removing the screws and reaching inside, just above the opening. Carefully he pulled the envelope out and took his notes out of it. The map he'd drawn after getting back that night, with notations showing not just buildings and roads, but short cuts, windows, doors, escape routes, diversions...

Complete. Thorough. Foolproof.

He frowned. But how to get out of here without Hannibal or BA following? That was the one sticking point he hadn't really gotten figured out yet. Hadn't known things would come to a head so suddenly. He could just wait until they were both asleep - but then he'd have to break into the VA to get Murdock. That wouldn't work. They did bed checks. He'd be missed. No. He needed to get Murdock out with the full knowledge and agreement of the doc. No calling "Tyrone" or the cops or anyone else. 

Well, no plan was perfect. He'd just have to leave and trust they wouldn't think of Murdock until it was too late. No way they'd think of the airfield. He could escape here easily enough if he really wanted to. He just hadn't felt the need to. Hadn't felt that thrumming...

He grinned. He was feeling it now, and knew this time it was good. He wanted it - no, he welcomed it! There'd been too much anger, turning that hum into something cold and calculating, the anger still there when the job was done. Not this time. He would feel good after this. No - he would feel great!

He would win this time.

**December 3 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 26 days**

Despite BA's views, Hannibal felt even more confident that morning than he ever had. This was going to work. For one thing, he knew Face would see the sense of it. If they were going to be successful, they had to have decent equipment. Just like in Nam. And who always made sure they had more than just decent equipment? 

Face.

Sure, he didn't have the contacts in LA yet, but he knew how to ferret them out. And he knew how to deal with the lowest of the low. Maybe not the best recommendation, but it was true. Hannibal and BA could handle the headquarters bit - a small warehouse, strategic in location and easily secured.

He just had to remember not to put too much pressure on Face. They needed to get moving on this, but there was no real deadline. Hannibal didn't want Face getting careless, or going back into that "gotta please Hannibal" mode. Nor did he want him thinking he had to prove something, like coming up with suppliers in record time. That could get somebody killed. And like it or not, Hannibal had to remember that Face was not only rusty at this shit - he wasn't the man he had been.

One day he would be. Of that, Hannibal was determined. But not now, not yet.

In the meantime, this was going to be their business, after all. Time to start acting like it. Face could certainly start checking around, getting the lay of the land, so to speak. No need for any actual engagements yet. And he and BA could start looking for just the right area of LA for their base.

Yeah. Today the team's new venture would get a fresh start.

He smiled, puffing on his cigar, sipping his coffee, and waited for his lieutenant to get up.


	21. Chapter 21

**December 3 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 26 days**

Face wandered slowly along the path, looking half-heartedly at the markers. He knew the chances Kyle had ended up here were outrageous; he also knew he could make a simple stop at the admin building and find out for sure. He'd rather pretend he was here, somewhere among the thousands of graves. Made him feel... better? Or just not so guilty? He'd never even asked if the body had been found, and Hannibal hadn't volunteered the info. Just like he'd neither confirmed nor denied that Murdock was behind their search for him. No - for Kyle. 

_They didn't really want you._

Damn it. 

He glanced around; only a handful of visitors, off in the distance. No Harry. Just... 

He sat on a stone bench, pulled out his notes, his map. He had time to go over the details one last time before hitting the VA, make damn sure he had it right. He still couldn't believe his luck - Hannibal suddenly deciding they needed to find a 'reliable' weapons supplier. And Face was apparently the guy who could not only find one, but make a good deal. "Don't worry about speed. Take your time, do it right." Yeah. As if Face couldn't locate some of his contacts from over there; Andy had already mentioned a couple of them to Hannibal, neither of them realizing Face had done business with them before. Yeah, he would have found a solid supplier for them, and before the end of the month. Hell, the end of the week. But he had his own plans. And by the time he got through with Wrenn, Hannibal and BA could go ahead and do whatever they wanted. As free men.

Which wouldn't happen if he sat here wool-gathering. A final look and the papers were carefully torn into confetti, drifting in the breeze. He took out another map, purchased on his way here, and carefully drew the route from a little private airfield in Henderson to an address he'd found, so easily, in the phone book.

In Paradise.

*****

"I don't like it."

Hannibal didn't bother to ask if BA was referring to the building or their absent teammate. He knew, the moment they'd pulled up by the warehouse, that it wouldn't work. And he also knew, from BA's even more taciturn demeanor during the afternoon, that his opinion of Face's part in this venture hadn't changed.

He chose to pretend it was all about the building, and pulled out the list he'd gotten from the real estate agent that morning.

"Okay, let's look at the next one."

"We oughta be lookin for Face. One of us shoulda been with him."

"BA..."

"No. I'm right about that and you know it. He's been cooped up for too long, been too... quiet. And he agreed to it awful quick. Somethin ain't right."

"He probably just wanted the chance to get away for a while." It sounded flimsy even as he said it. Face had not only been too quiet, but too easily distracted. He wanted to get away from the apartment, yes. Away from Hannibal and BA, definitely. But that wasn't it. Face had seemed surprised, but not alarmed at his new assignment. Hannibal had seen that glint in his lieutenant's eyes as he pretended to consider it, agreeing with a reluctance that the colonel should have known was faked. It was an act he'd seen too often in Nam. No, Face had something he wanted to do. Something he couldn't do if he was with the rest of them. But what?

Hannibal should've changed his plans, but he was caught again. Caught between keeping Face out of trouble and convincing him that Hannibal trusted him. Damn. He'd let enthusiasm push reason aside. Forgotten or ignored who he was dealing with. Again. Someone should've gone with Face. Just to be safe.

Maybe he should've gotten Murdock out...

*****

"Come on, Murdock. My 'brother' is back in town so you've got an overnight pass to see your former co-pilot. No big deal."

Murdock glanced back as the door to the VA swung shut. He had to hurry to keep up with Face, who didn't seem in the mood for either hanging around or long explanations. 

Well, tough. If he thought Murdock was going to cover for him again, Face had another think coming. He made a quick grab for the keys before Face could start the car, and found his hand held uncomfortably tight.

"Problem, Murdock?"

"I want to know what's going on, Face. Like, where you're planning on dropping me off while you go do whatever it is you're planning on doing. And what lie you expect me to tell Hannibal this time."

"I'm not dropping you off anywhere, and Hannibal gave me his car to use - hence the keys instead of loose wires. Now, do you want to hear the job or not?"

"If you let go of my hand first." He smiled as he said it, but regretted that immediately when Face let go like it was a hot poker. Guy was definitely not in the mood for joking around.

"Sorry, Murdock." 

The pilot stared in surprise. "Uh, what..."

"Look, Hannibal found out something about that guy that set us up at the park. He said you'd know who he was talking about - but he wouldn't tell me. So yeah, it pissed me off - but it's not your fault."

"Okaaay..."

"Anyway, we gotta take a run up the coast, do some recon."

"Why didn't Hannibal or BA come with you?"

"They're working another angle. Look, if you don't want to - "

"No, no, I'm cool. Anything to get out for a while, right?"

Face grimaced. "Yeah. So anyway, this could go very late, so that's why the overnight thing. We'll go back to the apartment when we're done - you can give BA some shit. I think he's been missing that."

Murdock laughed. 

That was more like it.

*****

Fifteen minutes into the trip. Murdock hadn't shut up. As if Face cared about Eli getting released, or some nurse and intern getting it on in the maintenance shed, or the latest discussion group Murdock was wreaking havoc in. But he tried very hard to make the appropriate responses.

Penance.

He was worried Murdock would start asking questions about the "recon". Face didn't want to explain too much until they got there. What if Murdock refused to go through with it? What if all this chattering meant he was too hyped up to fly? Could Murdock be too hyped up to fly? 

What if he crashed this plane?

_You gonna fail. You know you gonna fail. You always fail._

Shut up. Shut up!

"You okay, Face?"

Shit.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... "

"I talk too much. I know. The doc says the same thing."

"No, no, it's fine. Fine. Really."

Murdock settled back in his seat, but Face knew he was watching him. He got so tired of them always watching him.

Soon be over. Plan A. Plan A. Get Murdock in that fucking plane. Pay that debt. 

Then Wrenn. Get that son of a bitch dealt with. 

And then he'd be free.

*****

"He ain't back yet."

"Didn't expect him to be."

BA glared as Hannibal calmly walked away from the van. He hadn't really expected Face to be back either; the people he would be looking for didn't work bankers' hours and it was just sunset. But Hannibal didn't seem at all worried. BA was.

Face hadn't called them. Hannibal had told him to report in, let them know where he was, who he'd talked to. Face hadn't liked that, arguing that if he hadn't made any progress there was no reason to report in. In the end, unhappily, he'd said he would.

And the moon was made of cheese...

They shoulda gone with him. At least BA shoulda. Nothing like having some real muscle along to make that kind of people think twice about pulling any shit. Face could take care of himself, but BA didn't want the police involved.

No, they sure as hell didn't need any more trouble, but he had a feeling they were gonna get it.

*****

Murdock sighed. He hadn't really been dressed for tramping around the foothills, and now, laying up here amid rocks and pokey shrubs, he was uncomfortable and bored. It was all right for Face - he had the scope. All Murdock could see were buildings and a handful of planes. Hannibal must have had some reason for sending them out here, but how Ackman was connected to Mugu he had no idea, and no way he was going to ask Face.

"Okay, move out." Face shoved the scope into his diddy bag and started scrambling down the hill. Murdock rushed, again, to keep up. 

He really needed to start using the VA's gym...

Face, car already running, was tapping nervously on the steering wheel. Whatever came next, Face was obviously impatient for it. Murdock, not so much. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this whole thing.

"Uh, do we need to let Hannibal know what we found?" Whatever that was.

"No."

Back on the PCH, then a quick turn onto the road running along the perimeter of the airfield. They came to a sudden stop in the empty parking lot of a produce firm, just over a mile north of their target. A light rain had begun and Murdock half-expected Face to call off the recon. There was nothing to see here.

"Let's go, Murdock."

Murdock hadn't known anything about Point Mugu other than what it was; he now discovered it was surrounded by farm fields and marshes. It took only minutes until Murdock was wet, muddy, cold, and more than ready to call it a day. Face seemed not to care, moving in as straight a line as possible toward the fence ahead, diverting only when the mud got too deep to move. Even sloshing through that knee-deep stream didn't slow him for more than a few seconds. Damn...

Face finally stopped, laying on a patch of ground that, while wet, was at least more gravel and less mud. Murdock flopped down beside him, shivering. He saw a small security detail strolling along on the other side of the fence, now only a few yards away. There was a friendly exchange with another group, out of sight, and then they moved on, oblivious to the pair in the field. Deciding it was time to call it all off, Murdock turned toward Face. And stopped.

"Are you okay, Face?"

*****

By the time they'd found a spot on the hillside, Face had calmed down some from the drive. He forced himself to ignore that voice, and focus only on the mission. Plan A. That's all that mattered right now. Plan A. If he failed in that, Plan B died. He couldn't allow that.

The frustrations grew as he tried to watch the activity down below. These foothills were the only high ground anywhere near the airfield, and he had assumed he'd be able to see the entire operation from there, something he'd been unable to do on his earlier visit. To discover that there was no way to see the area where they would actually make their entrance...

Anger was putting it mildly.

"Okay, move out." Face shoved the scope into his diddy bag and started scrambling down the hill. He heard Murdock slipping and sliding on the rocks behind him but paid no attention. This was not about Murdock's comfort. This was about getting him in the fucking plane.

His tension rose even more when the rain started. He hated the rain. Hated being wet, no place to stay dry, mud everywhere, no food, no hearing them coming...

The car jerked to a stop by the produce building as he steeled himself. Remember the mission. Plan A. Don't think about that other shit. Plan A.

"Uh, do we need to let Hannibal know what we found?"

He almost laughed at that. No way in hell, Captain. Just shut up and do as you're told...

"No."

He got out, sited down the fence line in the distance, estimating where the gate was, and headed out. Farm fields, fallow now, then the marshlands in and around the game reserve. The smell hit him - pungent, fetid. Smothering.

Focus on the fence. Nothing else. Nothing.

...... His feet struck the water, and he sank into the muck up to his ankles. He forced his way across, listening as the villagers trailed closely behind him. They stopped at the edge of the paddies, apparently unwilling to cause further damage to their fledgling crops. That didn't stop them from throwing rocks and sticks at the intruder, stopping only when it was obvious he was beyond reach...... 

Stop it. Pay attention, you idiot.

He stepped to the side, trying to find firmer ground. Time was getting short; the sun had just gone down and though he knew Hannibal wouldn't miss him yet, there was still a lot to be done. Too much. Had to be gone from here before Hannibal came for him.

_You gonna fail. You know you gonna fail. You always fail._

Fuck you.

Harry laughed.

Face forged ahead in the deepening darkness. As he got further, the lights from the airfield would be both a blessing and a curse. What if they were seen? What then?

He knew that creek was coming up; he hadn't liked it being there at all but there was no way around it. Wasn't sure how deep it was. What might be in it. Never knew what might be in them. And then he didn't see it until he practically fell into it. Got his balance just in time, but it was deeper than he'd expected, more than knee-deep. Don't slip, don't trip, you know what happens then...

He heard a splash and low grumbling behind him. Swift resentful look at Murdock. Just shut up and get a move on, asshole. You think this is hard? You have no idea. No idea.

...... By the time he reached the edge of the field, it was nearly pitch dark, and the villagers were inside, lanterns gradually lighting up the windows. He slid out of the water, and scurried to a small shed, taking shelter on the far side. He sat and began the process of methodically removing the leeches, concentrating on that to calm himself. He could feel them on his back......

Complete the mission. Find that damn gate. Get the fucking plane.

He heard rather than felt the gravel under his feet. Just outside the glow of the airfield lights. He dropped down, watching. Waiting. Heard the patrol coming. Talking, laughing. One of them hollered to a second group, somewhere on the other side of the runway. Heard a shouted reply.

...... He got across the first paddy and was crawling over the dike separating it from the next when he heard the first shouts. His only thought, his only instinct, to keep running. His breath was coming hard now, and his ribs and legs were aching. He didn't even see the last dike, fell over it and landed, half-submerged, in the next paddy...... 

"Are you okay, Face?"

*****

Hannibal stood on the balcony, listening to the rain on the canopy, slowly puffing on his cigar. He'd left the door open so he could hear the phone when it rang. He hated the waiting, although it was still early. He hoped Face had gotten some leads, maybe a specific name. It would be great if he'd been able to set up a meet. Hell, maybe he'd already met with someone, gotten a feel for him, knew enough so they could check him out tomorrow. 

BA and Hannibal had had some luck themselves today. Found two buildings that could work. Just have to see what kind of deal they could make. Who knew - maybe they could have both a building and a supplier in another couple of weeks. Then they could start putting out feelers for jobs. Not like Neumann - smaller jobs at first. That was the plan.

The rain was starting to get heavier, the wind coming up a bit, blowing a mist onto the patio. Hannibal stepped inside, glanced at the phone.

Yeah. Learn better how things would work here in The World. Start small, get better, get bigger. Follow the plan. It would work.

But right now it didn't matter. Right now, Hannibal just wanted that phone to ring.

He just wanted to know Face was coming back. 

*****

"Face?"

Murdock was beyond nervous now. Over Thanksgiving, Hannibal had had to admit that Face was "zoning out" more and more often. But not like this. Murdock hadn't seen him this bad since... He quickly surveyed the area. No guards. No one in sight.

"Face!"

The lieutenant jerked, looking wildly around before finally focusing on Murdock, confusion quickly replaced by embarrassment.

"You okay?"

"Will you quit asking me that!"

"When you quit acting like you're not." Murdock spoke softly, calmly. He waited, watching as Face took several deep breaths. The effort it took to calm himself down was obvious. "Now, you want to tell me what's really going on here? 'Cause I'm pretty Hannibal didn't send us out here."

Face looked at the fence, the ditch in front of them, his hands - everywhere but at Murdock. Finally sighed.

"Hannibal doesn't know we're here, no. This was my idea."

"Why? What's here?"

"Lynch's plane."

"What?!"

"Shhhh!" Face yanked him back down, glaring.

"Okay, okay." Murdock found himself trying to relax now. "So Lynch is back in town. And his plane is here. And...?"

"And I thought we could, well, take it for a ride."

"What!?!"

"God, Murdock, will you shut up?"

"Face, we can't just take off in his plane."

"I know that! Why do you think we didn't just waltz through the main gate? Jesus, Murdock..."

"But why? I mean, why come clear out here just to take Lynch's plane?"

"Because I didn't want to steal a civilian's plane. I'm already wanted by the military, and you're nuts, so we wouldn't get in any deeper this way."

"And?"

"And... well, I just... I wanted to show Hannibal I could do more than just follow orders, that I'm not just..." He shook his head, looked away.

"C'mon, Face, there are easier ways to do that."

"But not as good, Murdock! Think of it - getting into a military base, stealing a plane - and not just any plane - Lynch's plane!"

"But Face - "

"And you'd get to fly again! That was the beauty of it! It was like, like fate! Don't you see? We had to do this!"

Murdock didn't like the almost manic tone to Face's voice, or the "fate" thing. He'd heard that before, at the VA. He didn't like it, not one bit, but at the same time, he realized something else. Face had done this, at least in part, for Murdock. Done all this, chancing not only Hannibal's anger but getting caught by the military, and...

"Face..."

"Yeah?"

"Where were you, before? When you kinda... spaced out?"

Face didn't answer, and Murdock knew. Pushing through the marsh, the mud and the thick grass - he knew with certainty where Face had gone and what it must have cost him.

For Murdock.

"Well, if we're gonna get that little bird up in the air, we better get moving."

*****

"Still no answer?"

"No. He must have left the car somewhere. Why else wouldn't he answer, or at least call back? Damn it, I don't even know where to look, who else to call."

"How about some of those guys Andy found? Couple of em were pretty shady over in Nam, might still be."

"Yeah, like they'd admit being involved in that shit now, let alone if they'd seen Face."

"You try Murdock yet?"

"No, I didn't want to worry him. And why would Face go see him, today of all days?"

"Why does Face do anything he does? Hell, maybe Face called him, mentioned where he was. And if you don't sound all tense about it, Murdock won't worry. Call him."

*****

Face and Murdock moved parallel to the fence, keeping just out of the arcs of light. Face was watching for landmarks, his carefully drawn map solid in his mind. He didn't watch for the guards, leaving that to Murdock.

He didn't know why the pilot was suddenly so cooperative. He didn't think he'd been that 'silver-tongued' in their discussion, trying desperately to tell him only what might persuade him without giving too much away. He knew he'd rambled a bit; too much maybe. Didn't matter now. The Plan was working again.

They came to the gate. The tricky part coming - working under the full glare of security lights, moving from shadow to shadow, trying to avoid any guards or ground crews... Face felt the thrumming start even as he pulled the bolt cutter from his bag. He grinned as the chain split and they slipped inside.

*****

BA listened only long enough to hear Hannibal's explosive "What!" and headed out the door. Whatever had happened, he just knew they'd be traveling somewhere and the van better be ready.

"I'm sorry, Mr Bradley, I thought you knew. Mr Eldridge has taken the captain for outings before, and when he said his brother had come home suddenly and wanted to see Murdock, we saw no reason not to allow it."

"That's okay, ma'am. I was just... surprised. Murdock usually lets me know beforehand. I'll give Mr Eldridge a call, make sure everything's okay. Thank you."

He hung up the phone with deliberate care before moving into the living room. He'd heard the door close, and knew BA was prepping for Hannibal's next move.

If only Hannibal knew what that would be.

*****

"Oh, she's a beauty, Face. A real beauty." Murdock stared through the blinds, grinning from ear to ear. "How the hell did Lynch talk his way into that?"

Face grinned as well, tying the newly acquired boots. "I don't know, but I figure he'll be flying coach after this." He straightened up, getting serious. "You better finish getting dressed. I don't know when the next shift comes on, and I don't want to mess with that."

Murdock took one more look at "his" plane, and hurried over to the locker. It was good being able to change into clean, dry overalls, even if they didn't fit the best. He had to admit, Face had done one hell of a recon job, especially since he hadn't actually been able to get on the base. A few wrong turns, and god - he didn't think he'd ever get the smell of stagnant water out of his nose - but here they were, in a hangar just yards from their goal.

He'd been pretty nervous up until now, between watching out for Navy guys and watching to see if Face went off the deep end. Well, completely off the deep end. There'd been a few times when Face started snapping at Harry - those scared him. But Face had come right back to reality. 

Murdock could almost the feel the energy coming from him, and the look in his eyes every time he got them to the next building, around the latest patrol - it was like he wasn't even thinking about years in prison if he was caught. He was totally in the moment, and loving every bit of it. Murdock couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that.

And now, seeing that plane, knowing it was Lynch's, knowing he'd be in that cockpit, not having to worry about any of the shit he had in South America... He'd have followed Face to hell and back for this.

"Ready?"

Murdock nodded, and they slipped out of the hangar door - right into the arms of a crewman. Scared the hell out of Murdock - not just meeting the guy, but making sure Face let go of him before doing permanent damage.

A reminder not to get too complacent.

A few minutes delay making sure the guy was tied up, gagged, and safely stowed away in a dark corner of the hangar, and they were on their way once more. A couple more guys passed them on the way, but paid no attention after a glance at the Navy overalls.

One last glance around and they were in the plane. Murdock chuckled - who the hell worries about security when they're parked on a Navy airfield? Hell, they'd even left the key in the ignition!

"You ready?"

"Buddy, I've been ready since I saw this! Um, where we going, exactly?"

"Don't worry. I've got the coordinates. We'll have a nice little flight, land at a nice little airport - and see if we can survive BA picking us up."

Murdock grinned as the engines roared to life. He'd have this baby in the air before anyone knew it was moving.

*****

"Colonel?"

Hannibal sighed. He'd been hoping it was Face or Murdock calling.

"Yeah, Andy - what's up?"

"I don't know if it's anything, but Casey called. He thought you should know 'cause of Lynch."

Instantly alert. "What about Lynch?"

"Well, more like his plane. Casey said the news spread like wildfire."

"What news, Andy?" He was quickly losing patience.

"Lynch's plane got stolen, right under the Navy's nose. I guess it was going down the runway before they knew it; last they saw, it was heading out over the ocean off Point Mugu. Couldn't even find it on radar." Andy hesitated, then, "I didn't know if it had anything to do with you guys, but..."

"How long ago?"

"Maybe an hour."

"Okay, Andy. Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem, but uh, well, I hate to do this, but, well, after that thing with Ackman, and now this, well..."

"Don't worry about it, Andy. You've been more than helpful. Consider yourself relieved of duty."

"Thanks, Colonel. And good luck."

BA was standing by the door, keys in hand. Hannibal gave him a quick rundown.

"You think it went in the drink?"

"Not if it was Murdock in the cockpit. They'd just stay below the radar."

"So where the hell you think they're goin?"

"I have a damn good idea where they're going. The only place Face would go to all this trouble for." He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "Come on. We have to get to Paradise."


	22. Chapter 22

**December 3 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 26 days**

Murdock squirmed in his seat, glancing again at Face. A few minutes into their wild flight, Murdock had plugged in the coordinates Face gave him - shooting a suspicious look his way as the plane turned eastward. They'd been flying now for over half an hour, and the suspicion became dead certainty. He hoped he could talk Face out of whatever he had planned. He just hadn't figured out how.

Face, for his part, hadn't said another word, just stared at the night sky through the cockpit window. The only indication of what he might have been thinking was the increasing staccato tapping of his fingers.

Finally, Murdock cleared his throat. Much farther and they wouldn't have enough fuel to turn back. It was now or never. 

"Uh, Face, you sure this is where you want to go? I mean, this isn't some rancher's private field, you know. This is practically Vegas."

"You want to try for McCarran? Or how about Nellis? I'm sure they'd give us a warm welcome." Face glanced at him - not a friendly glance, either. "This is a broken-down airstrip with one runway and crap-ass tower. Nobody lands there if they can possibly help it. We'll run the plane off the end of the runway, so it'll keep them occupied. You can stay with it if you want to. Tell them you were hijacked. You're nuts - they won't hold you responsible."

Ignoring the insult, Murdock persisted. "And what are you gonna do?"

Face leaned back, closed his eyes. "Places to go, people to see. Don't worry about it. You just land the plane."

Fucked, Murdock thought. We're fucked...

*****

Hannibal sat watching the night sky through the windshield. While BA filled the gas tank, Hannibal had made his last calls to both Face and Murdock. A lack of response from the former and a rerun from the VA was both a relief and a frustration. At least they knew the wrong people didn't have his car and the VA wasn't calling the police to find Murdock.

Yet.

BA didn't even ask about it when he got in the van and pulled back onto the freeway. He still wasn't convinced Face had managed to find out about Wrenn, but Hannibal wouldn't be satisfied until they knew for sure.

*****

As landings go, it wasn't bad. Coming in low enough to avoid any radar while staying high enough to miss any unseen power lines, hills or trees, approaching a somewhat neglected airstrip with one unlit runway in the dark and not really sure how long said runway was... No, it wasn't a bad landing.

Murdock sat, grinning so wide his face hurt, watching as the all the beautiful gauges and wonderful dials shut down, and the engine quieted to nothing but soft clicks. He jumped as Face abruptly undid his seat belt and stood.

"Great, huh, Face? Like, fantastigorically great?"

"You were worried?" Face shook his head and moved toward the rear of the plane.

Murdock frowned, his jubilation cut short. He knew what Face wanted him to do; he could already hear the sirens in the distance. But somehow Face knew where Wrenn was, which meant Murdock had to stay with him. Like it or not.

As at Point Mugu, Murdock found himself hurrying to keep up. Face stopped, just past the edge of the airport, to look back at him, frowning. No, glaring was more like it. Murdock made no move to turn back. Face grumbled something Murdock couldn't hear, but continued on. Murdock stayed close, but behind him.

No sense tempting fate.

**December 4 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 27 days**

BA knew Hannibal was getting as uptight as he was - a long drive through the desert coupled with wondering what they were heading into, if anything. That's what was getting to Hannibal; BA could see it plain as day. Should they hope it was just a wild goose chase and then worry where Face and Murdock really were - or hope the two were actually here and worry about stopping a disaster from happening?

They got their answer just a few minutes later. Less than a half mile to their right, they could plainly see flashing red lights mixed with high-powered floodlights surrounding a small plane. They could barely make out the tower in the distance. 

Hannibal sighed, once again consulting the road map.

"Keep going straight, BA. And watch the speed - the boys in blue will be all over hell now."

*****

They stood in the shadows of a small strip mall just off the main thoroughfare, watching for more cops. Three times along the way they'd had to retreat, hide, and run. Murdock wasn't sure what had caused the attention; might have been two guys sneaking along behind a lot of pretty expensive houses and condos in the middle of the night; might have been the damn overalls that could easily be mistaken for jail uniforms. Probably both. And each time they had to evade the cops, Murdock had tried to talk Face out of this mess - just find a gas station, call Hannibal. Each time he got the same "I didn't ask you to follow me!". And each time there was a little less patience, a little more anger.

Face had chucked the road map mile or so back, and Murdock had only managed to grab it before it blew onto the freeway, noting the route carefully drawn on it. He had one last chance to turn him around. Face's destination was two streets over. Disaster was two streets over.

And Murdock knew for sure it was going to be a disaster. He no longer existed as far as Face was concerned. For the last couple miles he'd been mumbling to himself (and maybe someone else, considering the anger that popped up now and then). The mumbling itself wasn't what spelled disaster, in Murdock's opinion. It was the (mostly) calm, determined tone to it. It wasn't like Face had gone off the deep end - it sounded more like Hannibal when he was briefing the team. Of course, this time there wasn't a team. Just Face.

Definitely a disaster coming, one way or another.

*****

"You wait here, Murdock. And I mean - you wait here. The last thing you want is to be recognized."

"Who's gonna recognize me, Face?"

That surprised him. He'd been thinking about that little problem for some time, and he had just assumed Murdock had as well. Wait. He hadn't told Murdock who the quarry was. Because he wasn't Murdock's quarry.

Wrenn belonged to him. His debt. His obligation.

His problem.

"Face?"

"What?"

"Who's going to recognize me?"

"Nobody - because you're staying here."

Face thought for a moment. He could hardly just leave Murdock here waiting for him. No doubt he'd have sense enough to call Hannibal in the morning, but where would he sleep tonight? It was getting cold, and an asphalt parking lot or concrete sidewalk was hardly comfortable.

"Face - "

"Listen, Murdock, you head back the way we came. Find a phone booth and call Hannibal. He'll be pissed, but he and BA will come and get you - us. It'll take three or four hours for them to get here, of course, but I'll be done by then so..."

"Done with what?"

This really was getting irritating. "Done with my business. Now, just do what I told you and I'll see you later."

He left then, giving Murdock no chance to ask more questions.

Time for Plan B to go full bore.

*****

It took Murdock several minutes to decide, pacing in the shadows, whether or not to follow Face. On the one hand, not wanting to lose track of him; on the other hand, knowing he couldn't deal with Face any more without Hannibal and BA. Things were going to play out the way Face wanted them to with or without Murdock.

This wasn't right. This wasn't good. Damn it, why had he gone along in the first place? Why couldn't he have just stayed at the VA and watched TV? Why was he always screwing things up when it came to Face?

He didn't find a phone booth for a couple more blocks. Then no answer at the apartment. More time wasted trying to remember the mobile phone number. It took only seconds for Hannibal to answer.

"Stay right where you are, Captain. BA and I are about a half hour away."

Stunned, Murdock hardly noticed the dial tone. A half hour?

Maybe there was a god after all...

*****

Face stood for a moment, taking in the terrain. Fate again had stepped in, and in his favor. Sitting well back on an obviously expensive cul-de-sac, Wrenn's house was one of perhaps a dozen he'd seen that actually had trees and shrubbery. The neighbors on two sides were equally well-endowed with foliage. The whole set-up must have cost the former colonel a pretty penny. But right now, he needed to find out what the rest of the layout was.

The houses around Wrenn's were all dark, with the exception of scattered - and very small - security lights. Rather than keeping people out, they provided just enough light so Face didn't trip over anything. He skirted through the back yards, ducking under the many low branches, keeping an eye out for the glow of TV sets, dogs, or any other obstructions - like swimming pools disguised as "natural ponds". The only thing that caused any concern were the frequent glimpses of patrol cars on the street, which told him why people weren't overly concerned with private security.

Not that it would help Wrenn.

It took him less than ten minutes to circle the property, looking through windows, noting doors, getting a general idea of the layout. He had three possible entry points, but one was damn near perfect. At the far side of the house, facing the back of the neighbor's relatively neglected property, a simple door next to a series of high windows. There was a small single-bulb light over the door - burned out or turned off. Through the windows, he could see it was some kind of rec room.

He let out a breath, softly. Time was getting short and he had the primary target to locate and control before he could really begin. It took only seconds to pop the lock on the door. He stepped inside, all business.

Unlike his dealings with Hannibal, Face knew exactly what to expect from Wrenn.

*****

"Shit."

Hannibal and BA looked at each other, resigned to yet another stroke of bad luck. They had just spotted Murdock on the next corner, waiting, when flashing red lights popped up behind them. Figures. Right on the line between high-end businesses and even higher-end homes, driving a second-hand van that had definitely seen better days.

Nothing at all suspicious.

"Hello, fellas. Lost?"

Hannibal leaned over, smiling apologetically. "We're not lost, sir, but our friend up there at the corner is. Kinda. He started a new job today and took the wrong bus home." Hannibal turned deliberately serious. "He's, uh, 'special', if you know what I mean. He called us, scared to death, no idea how to get home..."

The cop looked skeptical, but took a long look at Murdock, who was shuffling nervously as he looked back at them.

"You guys mind getting out and coming with me. We'll go double-check with this guy, okay?"

"No problem, Officer. No problem at all."

The three men walked up the street, the deputy staying just behind the other two. Safer for the deputy - opportune for Hannibal.

"It's okay, Stevie. Told you we'd find you."

Thankfully, the deputy accepted Murdock's honest confusion in view of Hannibal's "special" comment.

"You know these fellas, mister?"

"Uh, yeah..." He glanced at Hannibal. "Uh, I got lost..."

"Uh huh. Took the wrong bus, did ya?"

"Yes sir, I sure did. Wrong bus. Really, really wrong bus!"

"Uh huh. You from California, too?"

Damn...

"I was. Not now. One minute, I'm just flying along, next minute, I'm on the wrong bus. Really, really, really wrong bus!"

The deputy wasn't phased a bit. Probably used to all kinds, this close to the Strip. He nodded at Hannibal and BA. "All right, guys. Take your friend home. Maybe work on those bus routes a bit, okay?"

"Will do. And thanks."

Hannibal should've been relieved. Would've been, if Murdock hadn't started telling him about his actual ride...

*****

The house was much bigger than it had appeared from the outside. Face would have to check each room to see if anyone else was in the house. It dawned on him he didn't know if Wrenn was married or if he had children. He didn't like the idea of dealing with any kids, but then again, they might as well learn now what their father really was. As for a wife, that wouldn't bother him at all. One way or another.

To the right of the rec room were two bedrooms. As he had guessed from his recon, the one at the end of the hall was an empty guest room. The second brought his first, though minor, obstacle - a live-in housekeeper. An older woman, she was easily gagged and loosely tied up in her closet. He'd free her when he was done.

No harm done, really.

Back through the rec room, a quick check of the kitchen, dining room, living room, penlight flicking around each for anything else of interest. Other than expensive furnishings and a lot of artwork, nothing. 

He came to an angled corner, a closed door to the right and another at the end of a second hallway to the left. He slowly turned the handle on the first door, and pushed carefully. No squeak or other give-aways. Penlight in his left hand, he pulled a knife from its sheath and opened the door more fully with his foot. 

Wrenn's study. A large desk, eight file cabinets - all looking organized and neat. Face looked down the hall at the tightly closed door. Listened. Wrenn had always been a heavy sleeper. Face felt not a little regret he hadn't taken advantage of that in-country. It would've saved everyone a lot of grief.

He moved to the first file cabinet. Locked, of course, not that that would stop him. The files inside were all coded, the same one Face had broken years ago, although he was having a little trouble remembering it. Just enough to recognize some of the people they'd dealt with before. Interesting that they were dated much more recently. He might take a look at those later. After... 

He quickly looked through the next cabinet, found more of the same. Frustrated, he looked at the half-dozen other cabinets against the wall. It would take days to go through them all, let alone decipher the ones he actually needed. No way he could do it before Hannibal showed up. Not on his own.

He stepped out and looked down the hall. Tightened his grip on the knife. Fine. He'd just have Wrenn tell him where they were, before he got to their other business.

*****

It had taken them almost twenty minutes to find a place to hide the van, if next to a storage trailer outside a mini-mall could be called hidden. BA had figured the cops wouldn't see it unless they actually drove past it, and there really was no reason for them to do that. Nevertheless, finding the spot and then getting the five blocks to Wrenn's address without being reported had eaten up precious time.

At least with the three of them it hadn't taken long to check out the property. Hannibal now stood by the corner of the garage, just out of the light. Murdock had come up behind him just a moment before, shaking his head. Neither had found anything amiss.

Maybe their luck had changed and they'd catch Face before he got to Wrenn.

BA came around the far corner, scowling as he beckoned to them.

So much for luck.

*****

Even someone like Wrenn, who'd seen his share of close combat, was helpless against a knife to the throat when encumbered by bed covers. Face chuckled softly as he flipped on the bedside light and saw the wide-eyed confusion. 

Even better when the confusion turned to recognition, then disbelief.

"Surprised, Colonel?"

Wrenn started to shake his head, thought better of it. 

"Thought you were - "

"Dead? Yeah, a lot of people did." Face quickly ran his hand under the pillows. "No gun, Colonel? Ah, the nightstand then." He stood, still holding the knife in place, noting the increased discomfort of his prisoner as it pressed a bit harder. "Nervous, Wrenn? Afraid I'll lose my balance?"

"What do you want, Peck? Money?"

"That would be your first thought. No, I'm looking for something much better." 

Abruptly he pulled the knife away, leaving a small trail of blood, and pulled the nightstand drawer open. Sure enough, a M1911 lay waiting. He picked it up, did a quick check - fully loaded. Good. Slipping the knife back in its sheath, he settled calmly into a chair, pointing the gun at Wrenn's head.

"Now, down to business. I want to know exactly what you know about the robbery."

"The... you mean that cock and bull story about Hanoi?"

Face frowned. "Not the way to start out, Wrenn. I know, I know, the whole bombing thing and records lost..." He sighed dramatically. "But you and I both know you liked to keep your own set of records, and since you were the one who ended up in charge, you had access to anything of Morrison's that was found. So I'll let you reconsider your answers. Try to remember how things were over there." He sat up a little straighter. "Like in Saigon..."

*****

Hannibal was in the lead, carefully and as quietly as possible following the murmur of voices. He knew better than any of them what Wrenn's methods of dealing with Face had been. But unlike Wrenn, the team knew this was different from Nam, and Face's assumed calm now hid an erratic volatility. As long as the voices remained soft and, more importantly, relatively calm, Hannibal thought they were okay taking their time. He didn't want to upset the apple cart, causing things to happen that didn't need to, even though the sense of urgency was hard to ignore. 

But there was another, more selfish reason Hannibal was taking his time. Face had precipitated Hannibal's future plans of finding out what Wrenn knew and if it could possibly help prove their innocence. Tonight could now be the only opportunity any of them would have for that, so Face had to be given enough leeway to break Wrenn down, but no more. Hannibal would take it from there.

He came up slowly on the partially open door, the conversation beyond it coming through clearly. He listened, and then, confused, leaned in closer to make sure he was hearing right. He had made assumptions about what Face had in mind for Wrenn, but what he was hearing wasn't a confrontation. This sounded like a negotiation - and for the very information Hannibal wanted. 

Nevertheless, Hannibal figured Face intended to kill Wrenn once he'd gotten what he wanted. The hatred between the two men had been monumental back in Nam, and Face obviously had no problem now when it came to violence; Hannibal would have to stop things before it got out of hand. But Face just as obviously had a primary mission to be dealt with, and if there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was Face's almost obsessive need to complete the mission. No matter how much he and Hannibal had butted heads about the ways and means, they knew the desired result was the same for both. Face would not kill Wrenn until he was absolutely convinced he could not get what he wanted from him, and Hannibal thought he knew Face well enough, even now, to anticipate when that point would come. After all, he was once again handling the dirty jobs on his own, shielding the team from any connection to his less savory methods, just as the old Face had done so often.

And once again, Hannibal was going to let him.

*****

"Why should I tell you a damn thing? What are you going to do - shoot me?" Wrenn snorted derisively. 

"Oh, Colonel, you know that's not how I work. Mainly. I make deals. I made some very good ones for you, remember? So, here's our new one: you tell me what I want to know, and you - well, you save yourself a lot of pain. And if you're a really good boy, you get to live. That's a very big concession on my part, by the way."

Wrenn glared at him, but Face noted a small bit of uncertainty. He smiled.

"So, again - when did Morrison tell you about Hanoi?"

"There was nothing to tell."

"Drop it, Wrenn! You were next in line after Morrison and Smith. No way in hell you were left out of the loop, not in a combat zone. So I know you knew something!" Face took a breath, letting it out slowly. Relax. "Okay, okay, so maybe he didn't tell you about it beforehand. Maybe he left you sealed orders. Contingency orders. Secret mission - makes sense, right? Or, let's just say - for the moment - Morrison did screw up and didn't let you in on the robbery. Maybe he knew you weren't trustworthy. I could understand that. 

"The point is, I know you have what I want in your records. Yeah, I found your office - and the tons of files. Same old Wrenn - everything on paper. I kept telling you not to do that, didn't I? Told you to keep it all upstairs. Why do you think I could operate the way I did? Because nobody - including you - could actually prove anything. Nothing written down. Ever. All rumors and innuendo. A lot of people believed that shit, but proof was... it was just rumors, no proof. But people believed it. Believed... a lot of the wrong people..." He stopped, took another breath. Don't go there. Stick to the Plan. Stay with the Plan!

He looked at Wrenn, smiling. "Anyway, Colonel - all you have to do is tell me which files to look at and where they are and - "

"And you're delusional! Morrison told me nothing. He gave me nothing because there was nothing! You and your team went AWOL! Turned tail and ran! You were nothing but - "

Face stepped back from the bed, frowning slightly.

"Damn. Well, at least it'll be easier to tie you up now. And when you come to, we'll move on..."

*****

Hannibal felt a firm tug on his arm, but shook his head, listening. He didn't like what he'd heard, knew BA and Murdock were getting nervous, and yet he also knew Face hadn't really lost it. He was wandering a bit, yes, and he was definitely pissed off, but he still hadn't gotten what he wanted. Until he did, Wrenn would be safe, if a bit damaged. Hannibal gave only a passing thought to the fact that didn't bother him. What Face wanted, Hannibal also wanted. He'd live with a slightly guilty conscience.

*****

Face hurried now, using his knife to slash the bedsheets into strips and tying Wrenn's hands securely behind his back. If Murdock had been able to find Hannibal, Face had only a couple hours or so to get this done. He hesitated before pulling Wrenn out of bed, hoping like hell the guy didn't sleep au naturel. He didn't think he could deal with that. No, he knew he couldn't.

Then he heard that familiar chuckle. Very faint, but it was there.

Go to hell, Harry.

He dragged Wrenn roughly out of the bed, ignoring the groan when the man hit the floor, then pulled him into the chair and tied his legs to it. Then into the bathroom for water. He hesitated, thinking he'd seen movement in the hallway, then dismissed it. He already knew Harry was here, and he would disappear the second Face opened that door. No point looking. Not when he still had work to do.

He knew Wrenn was coming to on his own, but didn't care. He poured the water from the glass very deliberately over Wrenn's head, listening to him splutter and spit with satisfaction. He had Wrenn right where he wanted him, after all these years. He could feel the thrumming again, starting to build. Harry be damned. Hannibal be damned. He had the key to his freedom tied up in this chair and the power he felt...

Un-fucking-believable.

He turned back to Wrenn, only just realizing he'd been talking to Face for some time. It didn't matter. He knew what he needed from the prisoner, and he had the power to get it.

*****

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Wrenn's voice was tired, pain in each word. "I swear to you - "

"That's a laugh! You swore Smith and the team would be left alone if I stayed, if I played ball. And what happened? You son of a bitch - you were the one that caused all of this! All of it!"

The sound that followed was unmistakable, though Hannibal hardly noticed it. He'd just known Wrenn was somehow connected with Face's re-enlistment; now he had the reason. Add some more guilt to the pile. But Face's hatred was obviously much deeper than Hannibal had imagined.

"He's not going to tell Face anything, Hannibal, or he would've already." Murdock's whisper held the slightest tremor. "Face knows it, too. He doesn't care about the files any more. You gotta stop him, Colonel."

BA also had been getting more and more restless as the interrogation had gone on, and Hannibal knew he'd waited longer than he should have. A combination of desperate hope and his own hatred of Wrenn. But it had to stop now; Face was too close to doing serious damage.

With a resigned nod at his team, he reached for the door.

*****

Face was pacing - rather difficult to do in such a small room. It hadn't seemed so small before, and he knew it couldn't possibly be getting smaller. This wasn't fucking Alice in Wonderland! No, it was just... the thrumming. The longer Wrenn defied him, the louder it got, the more persistent, and the smaller the room got. He thought he'd learned to control it - he had controlled it! 

_Only when Smith is near. You control nothing. You are too weak._

Fuck you! He strode over to Wrenn and yanked his head back. 

"Tell me where the files are. Now."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Wrenn's voice was tired, pain in each word. "I swear to you - "

"That's a laugh! You swore Smith and the team would be left alone if I stayed, if I played ball. And what happened?"

_You know what happened. If not for this man, your team safe. If not for this man, you go home. Instead - you go with me._ Harry smiled smugly from the corner.

For once, Harry spoke the truth. All of it, every second of Face's personal hell, was because of Wrenn's blackmail.

"You son of a bitch - you were the one that caused all of this! All of it!"

Face's fist slammed against Wrenn's temple, whipping his head back against the chair. Wrenn slumped forward, groaning, as Face stalked away.

He had to think. Wrenn wasn't going to tell him anything - and there was no way he could find the right files in time. But he would not let Wrenn win yet again. Think!

The damn thrumming surrounded him. He hefted the knife. Only one way to stop it now. Smith would be here in an hour, maybe a little more. This could still work. The colonel would find the body. No way he'd call the cops - the military would see the connection right off. No, Smith would either walk away, or take steps to hide the body, make sure it wasn't ever found. It would take a couple days before anybody noticed Wrenn's absence. If he were careful, Face could come back after Smith had gone, take his time to go through the files and take what he needed. He could clear the team and have his freedom from all of them.

He looked at Wrenn. Time to end all of this.


	23. Chapter 23

**December 4 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 27 days**

For a moment - a very, very short moment - Face dismissed the sound as just Harry. But Harry was still standing in the corner, smirking at him, waiting to see if he was still the coward. He looked at the door, watched as it swung open, saw who was there.

No.

No, that can't be right. He had at least an hour before they showed up. At least.

_You make mistake. Big mistake._ Harry grinned.

"No!" Face glared at the three men. He hadn't made a mistake. There was no way in hell Hannibal could've gotten here in such a short time. No way in hell.

Harry grinned and moved out of the corner, closer to Wrenn, who stirred, moaning softly.

_You gonna fail. Just like always fail._

"Shut up!"

The men in the doorway stopped.

_Your boss gonna ruin everything. Just like before._

"He can't! He's not here!"

_Yeah, he not really here. Like he tell you about me. Not here. You just crazy._ Harry laughed again.

"I'm not crazy!"

"Face... take it easy, kid."

"You shut up! You are not supposed to be here!"

He had to think. Think! How did Hannibal get here so fast?

_He not here! Only me. And this guy._ Harry poked Wrenn. _You forget him, eh?_

"No, I didn't forget him! Now shut up and let me think!"

"We're not saying anything, Face."

_He can't talk 'cause he not here. You just crazy._

"Both of you just shut the fuck up!"

Face started pacing between Wrenn and the bed. The room was broiling. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand, glaring at the other men in the room. Except for Wrenn, they all looked just fine.

Why weren't they sweating?

_Because they not really here! You stupid as well as crazy!_

Face turned to retort, stopping short. Harry was sweating.

Face was sweating.

Harry was sweating.

He looked again at the three by the door.

No sweat.

Not one drop.

*****

Hannibal pushed open the door, heard that gentle swish as it swept over the thick carpet of the bedroom. For a moment, he was back at the hospital, hearing that same sound as the door to Wiley's room swung open, seeing the nurse, so sympathetic, watching as Wiley's breathing slowed down to nothing. And for an instant, he could swear it was Wiley sitting in that chair, covered in blood, beaten senseless. Such a little thing, that swish of the door, and yet...

He forced the picture out his head. He could not let himself go down that road, knowing what it had done to Face. He'd deal with his own demons later. Pay attention to Face now, standing by the bed with that knife, a mere step away from his hostage. Staring at them in disbelief, obviously not expecting them to be here so soon. Hannibal knew he had to take advantage of that, if he could.

Wrenn moaned softly, and Face shot a quick, sudden look at him - no. No, behind him, behind the chair. The disbelief snapped into anger.

"No!"

A equally quick glance between the three men. Hannibal sighed. After Murdock's tale of the trip here, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know who he was talking to. They started slowly moving further into the room.

"Shut up!"

As one, the three men froze. Whatever Harry was "saying", Face didn't like it one bit, and Hannibal didn't want that anger turned on them.

"He can't! He's not here!"

It was like listening to one side of a telephone conversation. Who the hell 'wasn't here'?

"I'm not crazy!"

Time to calm things down...

"Face... take it easy, kid."

"You shut up! You are not supposed to be here!"

Hannibal was starting to think he'd waited too long to interrupt the interrogation - not for Wrenn's sake, but for Face's. Too much frustration, too much adrenalin, too much violence...

Face, in the meantime, was talking to the room again.

"No, I didn't forget him! Now shut up and let me think!"

"We're not saying anything, Face." Calm him down, bring him back to reality...

"Both of you just shut the fuck up!"

Face started pacing, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, throwing baleful glances at everything and nothing. Hannibal dared a quick nod at Murdock, who cautiously stepped toward Wrenn, BA moving toward Hannibal's other side, nearer Face. They had to act, but without attracting Face's attention, at least until it was too late for him to respond. The man was already on a very short fuse - Hannibal didn't want it lit.

As suddenly as it had started, the pacing stopped. A puzzled frown appeared as Face stared first at Wrenn, then at that space by the chair - and then his gaze turned slowly toward the team.

In that whole little world of wrong, things got decidedly worse.

*****

BA did not like this one damn bit. The way Face had looked at them just now. Alabama all over again. BA sighed, softly. Very softly. No, man, the LT was gone, way gone, and BA didn't think Hannibal could talk him back. Not this time.

So then what?

He looked at that knife. Nasty piece of work. He'd always hated knives. Least with guns you usually knew where the bullet was going to go. Knives - hell, all you had to do was keep slashing and you could pretty much guarantee damage. No, he didn't like that knife, or the capable way Face held it, even now. And BA definitely hadn't forgotten that fight in New Mexico.

He cautiously moved a little more to Hannibal's left, all the while keeping a close eye on the LT. He knew they shoulda kept a tighter rein on him the last few months, that things were going where they shouldn't. Hannibal hadn't seen it. Fell into Face's traps, just like he always had. Thought he was really bringing Face back into the team. But Face knew he'd never really been part of it.

Didn't matter now that it was their fault. All their fault. Knowing didn't change anything. Nothing he could do about that. Right now there was only one thing he could do - not let the LT kill Wrenn.

Or anyone else.

*****

Face turned away from the group at the door, obviously dismissing them, moving again toward Wrenn. Hannibal had to say something, do something to delay him. None of them were close enough yet to stop the carnage.

"Face..."

"Save your breath. You can't stop me, and I've got a good hour before the real ones get here."

Shit.

"Face, I don't know what you think Harry's been telling you, but - "

Face actually laughed.

"That's great. Angel versus demon. But which is which? Huh? Both nothing more than delusions. Harry's just a delusion. Isn't that what you keep telling me, Hannibal? Not really there. But here you are, when you can't be, so maybe it really is Harry that's here and you're just the figment of my imagination. How about that?"

Face gripped the knife a little tighter and looked at Wrenn. Hannibal glanced at BA - still not close enough. Murdock wasn't much closer to Wrenn either.

Murdock...

"You can ignore me and BA, Face - but not Murdock."

Face frowned impatiently. "I thought I told you to - "

"Murdock's here, Face. In the flesh. You left him just a few blocks from here, remember?"

Hannibal would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't still be holding that knife. Instead he turned and looked deliberately at Murdock.

"Tell him, Captain. Tell him who's here and who isn't."

*****

_He lies! That man not here!_

Face was still staring at Murdock, trying to shut out Harry's voice. Murdock could be here. Face had told him to stay put, but that didn't mean anything. Damn it. Murdock would be a witness. That wasn't supposed to happen...

"I told you to call Hannibal, not follow me."

"I...I know, Face, but - "

"But nothing, Murdock! You weren't supposed to be part of this, damn it! None of you were." He glanced at Harry, who wisely said nothing, for a change. "Did you at least call Hannibal?"

Murdock glanced over at Hannibal, causing Face to frown. Could he see them, too? No, no, he was trying to trick Face. He remembered where Face had looked when he'd yelled at the apparition, that's all.

"Look at me, Murdock! I'm not stupid, you know. Did you call him, or did you decide not to follow those orders either?"

Murdock's turn to glare. "I didn't know I had to follow your orders." Hannibal cleared his throat. Murdock took a breath. "Yes, I called him. And they already knew about the plane and they were only a few minutes away. So yeah, he's actually here; so's BA. Just like me."

_See? He lie, too! All your friends - not your friends! They lie. That's all. Now they stop you from -   
_

"Shut the fuck up, damn it!"

Murdock took a step toward him, but Face was too quick, turning the knife toward him. "And you can quit lying to me. Bad enough you're here." He regarded Murdock with distaste. "Now what the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

*****

Hannibal wanted to hit something. Anything. Not only had his gambit to challenge his lieutenant's logic and bring him back to reality failed, but said lieutenant was now faced with a man he wanted to kill, three 'ghosts' antagonizing him, and a witness he didn't want. And Hannibal had no idea what Face intended to do about any of it.

Unfortunately, Harry seemed to have all the wrong answers. It took less than a second for Face to grab Murdock, spinning him around and shoving the pilot's arm up tightly against his back, knife hand pressed to his shoulder. He spared only a moment to glower in Harry's general direction before shoving Murdock toward the door. 

"Hey!" Murdock tried to pull away, but Face jerked his arm higher.

"Shut up and move!"

Hannibal quickly waved off BA. As long as Face didn't seem inclined to undue violence toward Murdock, he was willing to hold back; he didn't care to startle Face while he still held that knife. They followed carefully behind as the duo headed down the hall, Hannibal desperately hoping Murdock wouldn't do anything stupid, unconsciously touching his shoulder holster.

Thankfully, Murdock kept his mouth shut as the four men trailed through the house, Face paying no attention to the two men behind him. Hannibal wasn't sure if he still thought they weren't real, or if he knew that knife would keep them at bay. He was taking a bit too much for granted, either way, and Hannibal knew BA was equally aware of that failing.

Down another hallway, one the guys hadn't checked on earlier - another error in judgment - and Face reached for a door. Hesitated. He muttered, "No, not in there. The next one.", and pushed Murdock to another door at the end. He pulled him around, knife up, but thankfully not pointing at anyone. BA moved just ahead of Hannibal, still keeping his distance, but ready.

"Now, you listen carefully, Murdock, 'cause you screw up this time and everybody pays, got it?"

Murdock swallowed and nodded.

"I figure you did call Hannibal; I also know Hannibal found out a while ago where Wrenn lives." Hannbial and BA shared a resigned glance. "So when you aren't where you were supposed to be," clearly Face hadn't forgiven Murdock for that yet, "they'll come here. Now this is how it's going to go.

"You didn't see me here. At all. You just found Wrenn, dead. So Hannibal's got a choice - call the cops or clean up the mess. I figure he'll clean up the mess and get the hell out - that is, if he's smart. Wrenn won't be missed for a few days - that'll give me time to come back and find the files I need to clear the team."

"You know he's got them?"

Hannibal held his breath. Did Face know, or had he only hoped, as Hannibal had? 

"Of course he does! Wrenn always kept meticulous records, the idiot. I just need to... I just need to remember some of the code he used." His tone got defensive. "It's been a while, all right?"

"Hey, no problemo!"

"So I get the files, send a copy to the right people, and we'll prove we were under orders in Hanoi. Then you guys can get on with your lives."

"Well, what about you? I mean..."

"Me? Don't worry, Murdock. You guys will be free of me as well."

With that, Face shoved Murdock into the guest room and slammed the door.

Just before BA slammed into him.


	24. Chapter 24

**December 4 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 27 days**

They worked in relative quiet, going through each of Wrenn's eight file cabinets, looking for any indication of dates or names that could have a bearing on their case. It was extremely frustrating since, as Face had mentioned, the files were nearly all encoded. 

Murdock had cleaned up BA's wounds, luckily only a couple of gashes on his arm, and then gone to tend to Wrenn in the shambles of the bedroom. They all knew they should probably take him to a hospital, but none of them were inclined to do so. Sure, he'd taken a hell of a beating, but nothing life-threatening. Probably. Hannibal made the call; if he started going downhill, then they'd take him somewhere, sans any identification, and call an ambulance. Just another mugging. Unless or until that happened, there was too much else to be done. Too much at stake, and far too little time.

Neither BA nor Murdock had been so complacent where Face was concerned; they wanted him in the hospital. Period. When BA tackled him, Face slammed into the door, and the knife he'd been holding sliced across his stomach. He'd fought like a maniac, regardless, until they were finally able to subdue him.

That's when the argument began, and it was only Hannibal going into full-Colonel mode that settled the issue. Unlike Wrenn, Face would be in deep shit if they took him in. Harry was still in charge, and that added complications the Army could never compete with. 

Hating himself even more, Hannibal also insisted that Face be restrained before they attempted any first aid. Murdock glared, but nevertheless brought more of the ripped up sheets along with clean linen for bandages. They all realized it was for everyone's safety; Hannibal also understood he was crossing a line with Face that could destroy everything he thought they'd accomplished. But when Face started yelling invectives in Vietnamese, plus something in what Hannibal thought was Laotian, his hopes rose that Face wouldn't remember who had trussed him up.

It had taken some doing, even though the cut wasn't that deep, but Hannibal had finally gotten the seeping blood stopped, and the last bandages on. He really needed stitches, but Hannibal figured trying to sew him up now would just wreak more havoc. Face had sunk into a semi-stupor, only waking up enough to send a baleful look when the colonel moved directly into his view. Leaving the two injured men in the hallway, Hannibal had made his way to Wrenn's bedroom, where he rolled up the duvet as Murdock tossed the last bloody rag on the floor. He'd considered moving Wrenn out so Face could have the bed, but time and logistics argued against it. 

Using the bedcover as a litter, he and Murdock had carefully moved Face into Wrenn's office where they could more easily keep an eye on both men. Hannibal hoped Face would eventually come to enough to decipher the code, but he was in no condition to help with anything at that point...

Murdock straightened, shoving the latest file folder back in the drawer. He stretched and sighed deeply before looking at Hannibal, who looked at the two exhausted men, and Face still inert on the floor, possibly asleep, definitely unaware. Looked at the first halo of dawn through the windows.

Hell...

"C'mon, guys. Let's see what Wrenn has in that fancy kitchen..."

*****

While Hannibal and BA ate quickly, Murdock sat at the table, slowly chewing the - well, whatever it was. It tasted good, but he didn't really know what anything was that Hannibal pulled from the fridge. The colonel had seemed impressed, so apparently it was stuff for fancier people than him. And that's what he was wondering about now. Wrenn had never seemed like the gourmet cook type; certainly loved eating well, knew all kinds of premium restaurants in Saigon and Stateside. But a cook? Not Wrenn. So why would he have all this fancy food?

The other men started when he abruptly stood and headed to the fridge. He opened the freezer compartment and carefully pulled the frozen plastic boxes out, reading the labels. Yeah, these weren't TV dinners, not by a long shot. These were ingredients an experienced cook would use. Somebody... He turned and stared at Hannibal, who suddenly got that "now what?" look on his face.

"Uh, Colonel, just wondering. Did you ever figure Wrenn for a good cook?"

"Wrenn? No way. He was lucky if he could heat up c-rations. Why?"

Murdock frowned, ignoring the question. 

"You remember how Face suddenly decided not to shove me into that first room?"

Hannibal's turn to frown. "Yeah. What are you getting at?"

"The food in here. It's all pretty fancy for someone who doesn't cook, isn't it? More like something a chef would use."

"So, he probably has a cook, maybe a housekeeper - " Hannibal stopped, stricken. "Maybe somebody who would live here."

Hannibal dropped his fork and hurried down the hallway, Murdock and BA close behind, stopping at that first room. Hannibal cautiously opened the door and stepped through, fumbling for the light switch. Murdock, right behind him, noted almost immediately that no one was in the room - but there had been.

The colonel moved toward the half-open bathroom door, found the room empty. But the door squeaked, just a little. Just enough.

From the other door in the room came a muffled cry.

Murdock felt really sorry for the colonel. Now what, indeed?

*****

For a moment, Hannibal seriously considered just walking away, calling the cops, and letting Face deal with the unholy mess he'd created. But he remembered what Face had told Murdock.

"You guys will be free of me as well."

Okay. Time to come up with another of his famous plans...

He gestured for BA and Murdock to leave, whispering, "You guys go check on Wrenn and Face, then get back to those files. I'll take care of damage control here."

"You sure, Hannibal? Maybe we oughta just grab Face and git, call the cops after we're long gone."

"No, BA, we can't leave Wrenn in a position to tell anyone about Face or this fiasco. We have to have something to discredit him, or at least keep him quiet. Just do what I said. We'll work it out."

Hannibal didn't wait for any more 'discussion'. He quietly but firmly closed the door and looked at the closet, where the noise was increasing. He thought for another minute, made his decision, and strode to the door.

He purposely did not look for a light switch, letting him see the woman from the light in the bedroom while he remained a silhouette. He didn't see any injuries, thank God. She was older but not exactly frail-looking. And feisty - she had to have been tied up for several hours now, but was clearly still angry at being treated this way. Reminded him of his mother when he'd come home after another of his childhood 'adventures'.

Well, at least he knew how to handle a woman like that.

Still standing in the doorway, he addressed her with firm sympathy.

"All right, ma'am. I'm John Proctor, with the FBI." He pulled out his wallet, flashing it dramatically in the dim light before shoving it back in his pocket. "I'll cut you loose, but until I know exactly who you are and what's going on here, I don't want any trouble from you. Understood?"

The anger still remained, but Hannibal saw that hope mix in. She nodded, eyes never leaving him.

Hannibal smiled to himself. This might work out after all.

*****

Murdock checked over Wrenn, changing the cold packs, making sure he hadn't actually died yet. Not that that worried Murdock. He hadn't forgotten that talk in-country. Hadn't forgotten that without Wrenn, the guys might've stood a chance of being freed. The only reason Murdock cared at all about Wrenn's recovery was because of Face.

Face.

He could not get past the fact that Face had done this. Even after all he'd heard and seen since they found him, Murdock just could not accept that Face would beat the shit out of guy who was tied up, defenseless. And who was in the closet? What had he done to them?

Had to be that damn Harry. Had to be. The Face Murdock knew, however superficially, would not do this.

He just wouldn't.

Wrenn groaned and Murdock turned his attention back to the task at hand. He removed the now lukewarm rag from Wrenn's face, and that's when he had a spurt of hope that things might work out.

Both Wrenn's eyes were swollen shut.

He had never seen Hannibal, BA - or Murdock.

*****

Hannibal had removed the gag and ties, being careful to avert his face as he stepped behind the woman. She sputtered and coughed, but made no effort to move. He quickly went to the bathroom and brought her back a tumbler of water, again making sure all she saw was silhouette or shadow. After he helped her drink, she said she wasn't really hurt, just stiff and sore. 

"Did you see who did this?" Hannibal held his breath. So much depended on her answer.

"Not really. I was asleep, and the next thing I knew, this hand was over my mouth, and this voice - oh, it was a terrible, nasty voice!" Hannibal helped her take another drink, figuring any voice would sound nasty under the circumstances.

"He said not to make a sound, that he had some business to take care of, and he had to make sure I wouldn't 'cause problems'. Just like you!" She glared up at him, and Hannibal was really glad he was still in the shadows.

"Okay, then what?"

"Then he pulled me out of the bed and made me stand facing the wall. I could hear him tearing up my sheets, and then he wound a strip around my head, covering my mouth, tied my hands and pushed me into the closet. And then he tied my feet together! Like I was a threat to a man that size!"

"Uh-huh. And then he left?"

"Yes. He told me again not to cause problems, because he wouldn't like that - and he sounded so cold and mean - and then he shut the door on me." Tears started trailing down her cheeks. "He didn't... he didn't hurt Mr Wrenn, did he?"

Hannibal sighed. Little white lie time.

"Mr Wrenn will be okay. Apparently the intruder didn't find whatever he was looking for and left. But you need to answer me honestly now - do you know anything about Mr Wrenn's business dealings? Any people who showed up here? Names he might have mentioned?"

"No, no, he never talks about his work. He sometimes has dinner parties here for his clients, but he always lets me go visit my daughter after I have the food prepared." She frowned. "Sometimes he was awfully insistent on that, even when my daughter had other plans. So I would go to a movie instead." She looked defensively at Hannibal. "He just didn't want me stuck in my room while his guests were here. Mr Wrenn is not a dishonest man!"

"Well, that's what we're here to find out. We've been watching Mr Wrenn for some time, you understand, and while he may or may not be directly involved, it was his associations that got our attention. But you don't know anything at all about that, do you?" Hannibal hoped he'd put just the right amount of disbelief in his voice. He wanted her cooperative - very cooperative.

"No, I already told you! He never discussed his business with me. He never even... takes phone calls... except in his office." She suddenly looked nervous. "Do you really think he's..."

"As I said, that's what we're here to find out. Now, I'm going to believe you, for the moment anyway. But I want you to stay right here in your room while my men and I are finishing our search. I don't need any civilians getting in the way, or maybe trying to 'help' Mr Wrenn."

"Oh, no, sir! I'll stay here, I promise! I won't make a peep!"

Hannibal took a last glance around the room, disconnected the phone, and carrying it with him, left the woman still sitting obediently in the closet. As he closed the bedroom door, he smiled softly.

Piece of cake...

*****

BA was not happy. His arm was hurting like hell, for one thing. Not that they were huge wounds - more like really big paper cuts. But they hurt like hell anyway.

And then there was Face. He'd obviously tried hard to get loose while the rest had been out of the room. The bandages were soaked with blood and he was drenched in sweat. BA sighed; Face seemed to look right through him, and BA wasn't sure if that was that spaced-out phase he always seemed to go through after one of his 'adventures', or if Harry was still around.

Okay, LT. First things first.

"How long you been out, Face?"

The question seemed to confuse him.

"What..."

"How long were you passed out?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, I'll tell you. Long enough for me and Hannibal to get here and find Murdock - and you. So we ain't gonna have no talk of us not bein here, right?"

"How - "

" 'Cause Murdock told us how you was seeing us when we weren't here yet. So now you know we are here, and we ain't no ghosts."

"I was supposed to be gone... before..."

"I figured that. Didn't work out that way. Now I gotta re-do those bandages."

Face looked down at his stomach, wincing. "How did..."

For a moment, BA was stumped. How to explain something that would blow things up again? He decided on the bulldozer plan. Didn't like lying, but...

"You tripped. Didn't think you were that clumsy, but that's what happened." He moved on, quickly. "You lay still - I gotta go get some clean bandages."

"Okay." Face didn't look like he was totally convinced, but it was plausible enough for him to accept. For now.

BA left, running into Murdock as he came out. 

"How's Face?"

"Got some work to do on him - you go see if you can find something for the pain. But don't you go in talkin to him. And tell Hannibal to stay out, too. We gotta get our story straight first."

Leaving Murdock open-mouthed, BA stalked into Wrenn's bedroom.

*****

Murdock was playing a pinball machine in Wrenn's game room, but Hannibal knew he was getting both bored and stressed with the waiting. They all were, but Hannibal was willing to deal with that until BA got done with Face. He didn't know what his sergeant had told Face, but it seemed to be working - at least there was no indication of anyone trying to kill anyone else in there. So they would wait until they were let in on BA's 'magic'.

Hannibal found himself wondering about that rather odd relationship between BA and Face yet again. Saying opposites attract would not only be trite, but not entirely accurate. The two men had never actually liked each other, but since they'd found Face again, there was... something between them. Protectiveness on BA's part but only to a point. He didn't like the stunts Face pulled, but was ready at the drop of a hat to pull him out of them - then give him hell about it.

And Face took it. For the most part anyway. Basic dislike or not, Face seemed to respect BA. He at least listened to him, and to a certain extent, seemed to trust him. Well, Face knew how BA felt about lying - which was another paradox. Lying, or at least distorting the truth, was almost an integral part of Face's personality. And BA accepted that, even when he called Face out on it.

Well, whatever the nature of their relationship, it seemed to be working. That's what mattered, in the long run. Hannibal could only hope he and Face would get there one day...

Murdock had moved from the pinball machine to looking through Wrenn's collection of books. Hannibal took the opportunity to look around as well, curiosity taking over. A few first editions on the shelves, artwork that didn't exactly come from Woolworth's. He looked around the rooms, now lit by the sun. All in all, Wrenn had done pretty damn well, considering he'd only been with that development company for four years. Hannibal was pretty sure Wrenn didn't have the real estate acumen for this kind of success

Be interesting to find out who hired him - and what they got in exchange for the cover...

BA came in, wiping his hands on a towel that probably hadn't seen real dirt since it was made, and spoke without preamble.

"Here's what's what, guys..."

*****

While Hannibal was impressed with BA's handling of Face, he was less than happy with BA's adamance about stitches. The longer they were here, the better the chance of discovery, and they were already stuck here until nightfall. But after looking at the new and already pinkish bandages, he had no choice but to agree. Hannibal sent Murdock back to the van for their medical kit - with a strong admonition not to draw attention - and had BA make sure both Wrenn and the housekeeper were staying put. 

As for himself, he settled down on the floor next to Face, determined to get any information he could about that damn code before giving him the Darvon Murdock had found. The clock in his head ticking away the minutes, he got straight to the point.

"Okay, kid. I know what you want to do with these files, and I want that as well. Very much. But I need to know what this code is all about, because we haven't got a lot of time. What do you remember?"

"There's a key word. He used... " Face frowned. "He used 'smack'. Yeah. 'Smack'."

"Smack? Okay. So what does that mean?"

"It tells you what... codes to use... for the letters."

"You mean there's more than one code?" Dear God, they'd never get through all these files.

"Yeah, but they're... easy. Just... takes a little time." Face closed his eyes, starting to drift off.

"C'mon, Face, focus! Tell me what you mean!"

"Okay." He swallowed, frowned. "It's the Vigenère... and shift..." Focused he was - understandable, not quite. 

Hannibal tried to be patient, but Face was fading fast. He knew about the Vigenère; it was complicated, but workable. How fast was another question.

"What's 'shift'?"

Deliberately or accidentally, Face came up with the magic phrase.

"Change alphabet..."

Just like that, Hannibal was in the backyard at his family's home, he and his brother playing with the "magic" decoders they'd gotten from Ovaltine. Caesar's shift cipher! How could he be so dense?

"What about the key word, Face? You said Wrenn used 'smack'."

"First letter. S."

Okay. Hannibal stood, spotting and pulling down the wall calendar. On the back, he wrote out the alphabet in large letters. He tore off another sheet and did the same.

"Okay. 'A' isn't 'A' - it's 'S'. Right?" He positioned the two alphabets so the 'A' of the first lined up below the 'S' of the second. Now he was getting it. 

"To start. Second... alphabet... 'M'."

Hannibal sighed as the voice fell to a whisper, but Face wasn't done. Not yet. He made a grab for the pen, hissing in pain. Hannibal immediately handed it to him, and watched as Face moved the papers, back and forth, awkwardly scrawling a series of letters, crossing some out, determinedly re-writing. Finally, the pen dropped from his hand and he pushed the sheets toward Hannibal. He pointed to the first set of letters - "Aairx" - and looked at Hannibal.

"Smith."

The next set - Xsci. "Peck."

Jorytcg. "Baracus."

Uirbely. "Murdock. Look for those. Look..."

Hannibal's grin was returned by an exhausted but almost triumphant smile.

"Okay, Face. I want you to take this pill - it's for the pain. When Murdock gets back, I'm going to have to sew you up."

"Yeah...," Face replied with obvious effort. "If he changed.. the key... we're screwed..."

'Might be anyway, kid,' he thought, as he helped Face down the pill. 'Might be anyway."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be coming more slowly after this, as am now just writing the new chapters, which then have to beta'd and edited. Please be patient - this WILL be finished soon. :D

**December 4 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 27 days**

Hannibal hadn't really liked giving Face a pill meant for someone else, and he was regretting it more and more as time passed and Face slept. Granted, there was more than ample reason for his exhaustion, but Hannibal worried anyway. Too keyed up himself, he'd nevertheless sent BA and Murdock to rest up in the guest room, reminding them of their other 'guest' in the next room.

That was yet another problem. Hannibal had taken her something to eat, telling her to stand facing the wall while he set the meal on the bed. That, of course, made her suspicious (she hadn't forgotten how Face had done the same thing), and Hannibal had had to come up an impromptu story about being 'deep undercover'.

Things were just getting too damn complicated.

Even knowing what they were now looking for, they'd been unable to find anything for the longest time. Wrenn was apparently anal about security, even in how he filed his encrypted stash. It had looked like a mishmash of disorganization, as if Wrenn had simply shoved random files into the various drawers. Then, almost by chance, Murdock found BA's file, not in the "J" drawer but filed under "B", surrounded by more supposedly random files. Hannibal surmised that Wrenn filed everything according to the real names, not the encoded ones - yet another obstacle to finding his secrets - and being able to quickly locate Murdock's file confirmed it.

Hannibal hadn't been surprised that neither BA's nor Murdock's files contained much, and some was not even encoded. Hannibal remembered some of the dates, and realized that Wrenn had taken note of some, though not all of the team's missions. He would definitely need to decode what he figured were the places, and see if he could figure out why Wrenn had paid attention to those in particular. Murdock's file was similar in nature to BA's, although the notations on the last page were lengthy, and all in code. Hannibal was somewhat hopeful when he saw that, knowing that clues to Wrenn's actions prior to and after Hanoi might be in there.

Hannibal's was actually several files in a small binder, and most of that in code. It would take no small effort to decode. He set it aside, discouraged, and looked in the drawer where Face's records were.

Not surprisingly, there were several binders, and everything was encoded except for dates - and there seemed to be hundreds of those. The last page, however, did show Wrenn's full hatred of the man. A hand-written notation at the bottom of the page, dated when the team was returned to Nha Trang. It was underlined, many times, circled several times, and had a series of exclamation points at the end. It was the only thing not encoded, and read simply, "PECK DEAD".

Hannibal had said nothing to the others, only had them put the files in the garage, ready to go when they left.

Now, he made another start going through the file cabinets, looking for any files that didn't concern the team, but could help hang Wrenn. He was getting more and more angry and desperate, and he didn't like the feelings. It was not how he handled things. But this was taking too much time, and getting too close to daylight, when a random phone call might come, some neighbor stop by. When he almost threw the desk lamp, he knew he needed a break. Now.

He stepped out onto the small patio behind the house. He pulled a cigar, methodically lighting it, puffing slowly as he gazed around, forcing himself to relax, to stop thinking, if only for a moment. He was hidden from view of the neighbors, what traffic there was was muted.

Quiet. Calm.

Normal.

There was little more he could do until Face woke up. He would not deliberately wake him - he needed his lieutenant rested, able to think, coherent. He really had only one thing to think about, one decision to make.

Stay or go.

If they stayed, it could mean being here another two or three days and in the end they could still come up empty. No guarantee Wrenn kept any other records from Nam, let alone what he knew about that robbery. And yet, Hannibal was certain there were records in that room that could spell disaster for Wrenn, records of things he wouldn't want the authorities to know about. Otherwise, why encode them at all? And frankly, Hannibal would be almost as happy to ruin Wrenn as he would be to clear his team.

If they left...

He carefully ground the cigar butt into the ground and headed back to the library.

There had to be another way, and by God, he would find it.

*****

The first thing Face was aware of was the whispering. A voice, so soft, telling him he had to wake up. Had to. He had things to do.

Unfinished work.

He forced his eyes open, obeying that voice, so soft yet so... demanding.

Do as you're told and you survive.

He started to sit up and fell back, gasping in pain. What the hell...

"Hey, Face. Don't move. You'll rip the stitches."

The figure hovering over him was blurred, but he knew that voice. Wasn't the whispering voice. No, this was...

Hannibal.

"You back with us, kid?"

Face blinked, Hannibal's face rippling almost into focus, and nodded carefully.

"Okay, good. Now, we're going to get you sitting up here. You don't move, just let us do the work, okay?"

Again, Face nodded. He still wasn't sure what was going on, or even where he was, but that whisper was still there. Hannibal seemed to want to help him, so if Hannibal knew what Face had to finish, they could do it together.

It took some doing to get Face propped up against the wall with pillows, even with both Hannibal and Murdock doing the work for him. He really wished they'd just left him alone. But that damn whisper got louder, and he pushed past the dizziness and pain.

Finish the job.

*****

Hannibal repeated his earlier steps with the housekeeper when it came dinner time. She was getting more impatient, wanting to know how much longer the men would be there, why this 'search' was taking so long. Hannibal had to get rather curt with her, but knew full well their time was getting very short.

Wrenn was also not happy. He had come to enough to let anyone he heard come into the bedroom know he was in pain, hungry, thirsty, and going to kill Peck at the earliest opportunity. Hannibal gave strict orders that no one was to say anything when around Wrenn. He may not be able to see them, but he would definitely recognize their voices. No longer concerned about Wrenn taking a bad turn, he was left mainly alone. Only once, when BA felt he was getting a little too loud, a gag was placed over his mouth. Just for a moment, but he got the picture. He kept quiet after that.

What made Hannibal uneasy was that Wrenn didn't seem to understand who they actually were. Wrenn surely would have connected Face with the rest of the team. That he hadn't meant the Army either didn't know Face was actually working with the team again - a long shot - or it was keeping the whole 'dead/not dead' debacle under very tight wraps. Hannibal didn't know why they would do that - unless it had something to do with that new guy who'd arrived with Lynch. He might have to do more checking on that major.

He headed back to the library, where Face was "holding court". Hannibal felt a bit guilty at his detachment, but it was actually a bit fascinating to watch. Face still wasn't really "with them", as he'd claimed; Hannibal was pretty sure that dose of Darvon had been a bit too much. But that reality-fog seemed to allow him to do exactly what was needed - focus almost exclusively on the task at hand. Hannibal wasn't blind to the sudden silences, with just a slight tilt of the head. Face wasn't thinking about the cipher when that happened. He was listening to something.

Someone.

After the first couple times, he also noticed that Face seemed puzzled by whatever he was hearing. And thankfully, it didn't take much to bring him back on track. It gave Hannibal hope that maybe, just maybe, Harry was finally losing some of his power. Maybe this whole thing with Wrenn had pushed Face in the right direction after all.

But for now, charts of coding scattered in front of him, he seemed very much in command. Hannibal had no problem with that at this point; Face was substantially faster at untangling the whole mess than he was. Face also understood the two-fold purpose of finding the right files. So Hannibal's job was to make sure neither BA nor Murdock got too pissed off at the curt orders Face had issued as he quickly translated the codes for more names. Hannibal was also looking for specific dates among those files, dates Face seemed to think were important to their secondary purpose - bringing Wrenn down.

Finally, with several stacks of folders on the floor, and BA at the point of shoving them down Face's throat, Hannibal called a halt.

"Face, enough is enough. There's no way we can decode all these things. Bad enough we have to deal with Wrenn in there. His housekeeper's about ready to mutiny."

Face looked puzzled. "His housekeeper?" Damn it. There was that look again - Harry making his presence known. "Oh, her. She'll be alright. Just don't let her out." He calmly went back to his work.

"Face!" Murdock's outrage beat Hannibal to the punch. "She's an old lady!"

Face looked at him impatiently. "She's not that old, Murdock. And she wasn't hurt, after all."

Time to defuse.

"Okay, old or not, hurt or not, we have to get out of here - soon. We need the shit on Wrenn and fast."

Face sighed. "Why don't you guys take a break and I'll start decoding."

"You're sure you can find what we need in this mess?"

Face smiled with grim satisfaction. "I can pull enough out of just those three files to prove Wrenn was dealing in drugs and weapons theft in Nam. That ought to be enough to pique the military's interest - and make them doubt any statements Wrenn might make against us. Shouldn't take more than a couple hours."

"All right. You get what you need decoded, but," he glanced at his watch, "you've got two hours, no more. Then we're out of here. Period." He looked at the others. "Go bring the van and get it loaded. I'll write down all the details of the codes and filing system, and we'll leave it all where they can't miss it. The Army will have the right people to handle it from there. We'll give them a call when we're a long way from here."

BA and Murdock almost immediately started for the door. As Hannibal followed, Face called him back.

"Wrenn's still alive." Statement, not question.

"Yeah, Face."

"Okay. That's what it was, then."

Hannibal almost asked, then thought better of it, and left Face to his decoding. But until they were ready to leave, someone would be sitting outside Wrenn's door.

*****

_You must finish things. Now. Before he stops you._

Not yet. I have to finish this first.

_Why? He gonna be dead. Who care about stupid papers?_

Face forced himself to ignore him. Dead or not, Wrenn's reputation had to be destroyed, his actions in Nam exposed, along with whatever the hell he'd been up to Stateside. No matter what Wrenn had in the team's files, the Army could claim they were faked. Only exposing all of Wrenn's corruption, both then and now, would give the team an unassailable defense.

He had to destroy Wrenn, in every sense of the word.

He went back to work, shifting his makeshift charts quickly, jotting down names, dates, places, amounts. Every now and then, he would reach too far, move too quickly, and be forcefully reminded of that cut across his stomach. He was less and less inclined to accept BA's explanation for that, but still not quite remembering how it had really happened. He sighed. He knew eventually Harry would fill him in, and in great detail.

Not sure what he'd do then.

*****

Hannibal glanced down the hall, got a nod from Murdock, now sitting in front of Wrenn's door. He had a book open in his lap, but it was mainly for show. Just found a quiet place to read, should a certain lieutenant come his way.

Hannibal went looking for BA, who'd taken a cautious walk around the perimeter, watching how often patrol cars went by, planning their departure. He found him at the back door, cleaning up the cigar remains with a paper towel, shaking his head at Hannibal's carelessness. They knew they'd eventually be identified - no reason to make it easy.

"Sorry, BA."

"Yeah. Gotta make a sweep of the house, too."

"Right. Murdock and I can handle that - I need you to figure out how to lock up Wrenn and that housekeeper. I haven't found any keys for the bedrooms. And you need to do it quietly - I don't want them to know until long after we leave."

For the first time since they'd left LA, BA smiled. Just a little.

**December 5 1977 - 1 year, 1 month, 28 days**

He didn't know how long he'd been working when there was a knock at the door, and Hannibal stepped in.

Interesting, that knock...

"Face? One more hour, no more."

"It won't take an hour for me to finish things."

Hannibal looked at him for a long moment before nodding and walking out, leaving the door open.

Face quickly finished the notations, and began his next quest. The idea had come to him not long after he'd started decoding, and the more he thought about it, the better he liked it. He hoped Wrenn had a copy - was quite sure he did. In that one binder he'd made sure had been pulled, without telling them whose it was, specifically asking BA to get it. He didn't want to take a chance on Hannibal figuring it out. It would definitely go with the team, but not until he'd gone through it.

He stood, painfully, pushing past the spasm. Ignore it. He had to look in that file. Make sure.

He had to find Morrison's signature.

*****

Hannibal had set Murdock to clearing out Wrenn's bedroom, solemnly promising to help when he got done with the rest of the house. Murdock clearly wasn't happy about it, and no one could blame him for that, but someone had to stay between Wrenn and Face. Hannibal still wasn't sure Face wouldn't remember who had tied him up earlier and saw no point adding possible fuel to the fire.

Hannibal had just finished wiping down the pinball machine when BA came in, frustration making his usual scowl even more intimidating.

"Hannibal, that A-hole don't have one tool in that garage! Not one! What man doesn't have at least a hammer or -"

"Settle down, BA. What exactly do you need?"

"I need a vise, and a hammer, and a metal saw."

Hannibal sighed. He thought they could improvise on the tools, but it didn't sound like the quiet he'd wanted, and he said as much.

"I'll work in the garage - nobody'll hear anything. Not like I'm building a damn tank!"

"Okay, okay. Let's take a look in the kitchen - and you can tell me exactly what you're planning."

"It's simple, Hannibal. Break the handle off a kitchen fork and bend the tines. Then you just stick the tines in next to the latch button when you close the door and shove the handle in between the tines." He shrugged. "Can't nobody open the door from the inside; they gotta be able to pull that handle out."

Hannibal grinned. Leave it to BA to know about this shit...

It took only moments to find the meat tenderizer, a perfect substitute for the hammer. The saw was a definite problem, until BA noted he could probably do without it if they could find something for the vise. They found and discarded several kitchen tools before Hannibal spotted the perfect replacement, and held it up triumphantly.

"What the hell is that?"

"That, BA, is a gourmet vise-style nutcracker." He quickly demonstrated how it worked, and BA shook his head, grinning.

"How'd you know that?"

"A couple years stationed in France, BA. Can't help but pick up a few useful cooking ideas over there."

BA chuckled as he grabbed forks from the drawer. "Should have these ready in no time, Hannibal."

"Great. Just remember to wipe you fingerprints off."

BA nodded and headed once again for the garage. Hannibal smiled until he looked at the stack of dishes still sitting on the counter. They'd have to be hand-washed - he wouldn't trust the dishwasher to remove fingerprints. He glanced in the direction of Wrenn's bedroom, sighed, and started filling the sink.

Even Murdock had his limits.

*****

Face carefully folded the precious papers into his pocket. Two really good samples, one rather scribbled, but it would work. He wasn't going to be actually copying them, after all, so seeing a scribble could only help. There'd been a couple others in the binders, but he left them. Didn't want Hannibal getting suspicious, after all. And he did not need more interference from that front.

Which reminded him...

He stepped carefully to the door, hand resting lightly on his stomach. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to do this. He had no weapons any more, other than his bare hands. Not that that would be a problem. It would no doubt hurt like hell, having to hold Wrenn down while he finished the job, but he didn't consider that a problem, either.

No, the real problem was he just didn't feel like killing him now. There was no thrumming in his head, no excitement building. There was nothing. And yet he knew he had to do it.

Shit. He couldn't even remember why, now. Hannibal would get the Army in here, looking at all these files, and Wrenn would be history. He'd be right where he'd put Hannibal and the others. Who knew - maybe he'd die in prison. Face smiled. Yeah, that would be good. Wrenn would die locked up while the team was free...

_You never be free if you don't kill him. He caused everything to go wrong._

"I know that. But - "

_You coward. You always coward._

"No!"

Harry laughed. _You not kill man who gave you to me. Ha! You like what I do, then!_

Face took a furious step toward him, but Harry was gone, only a quiet echo of his laugh remaining.

When Face moved into the hall, there was no thrum, no excitement, not even anger. Only cold determination. If killing Wrenn meant ridding himself of Harry, then Wrenn would die.

Period.

*****

Murdock hadn't paid that much attention to the mumbling filtering up the hall from the study. Face had been doing that most of the night as he worked on those codes. But that last one sounded wrong. He tossed the last of the bloody rags in the trash bag and headed for the door. Just in time, as Face was headed his way. Murdock drew the door shut behind him, and held his finger to his lips. It would be just his luck if Face gave him away at the last moment.

"All done, Face? I was just clearing up in there so we can get outta Dodge." 

"Uh, yeah. I've got one more binder to take with us, though, and, well, I can't quite lift it." His hand went to his stomach.

"Oh! Okay, well, BA and Hannibal are clearing the rest of the house; just let 'em know..."

Murdock knew that look. Always got it when Face saw through him and didn't like it.

"Face, you can't - "

"Yeah, I can, Murdock. Can - and will. I have to. It's the only way."

"The only way for what? C'mon, Face, you're not a stone-cold killer. You're not!"

Face looked away. "How would you know what I am?" The voice was so quiet now Murdock just barely heard him.

"I know because you didn't kill Hannibal."

Face's head jerked up. "What?"

"Back there in New Mexico. BA told me what happened."

"BA's the only reason I didn't - "

"No, Face. No. If you'd really wanted to kill him, you would've done it before BA got back up. Just like you could've killed BA instead of just knocking him out. Just like you didn't kill any of the guys you fought. You did a lot of damage, but you didn't kill them."

"This... this is different, Murdock! This is Wrenn! This is... I have to do this!"

"Why, Face?"

Hannibal stood a few feet behind him, voice calm, quiet.

Face spun around, stumbling against the wall. Both Murdock and Hannibal reached for him, but he pushed away. Murdock looked at Hannibal, hoping he could come up with something. And quick.

*****

Face hadn't heard the colonel come up behind him. Didn't want him here, not now. Just get this over with. Finish it. Then he could walk away. Everything he needed to do, done.

"Face? Why do you have to kill Wrenn? We've got enough to ruin him. Isn't that enough?"

"No. I have to finish this or..."

"Or what? What happens if you don't?"

"Nothing happens! Nothing changes! He'll... he'll stay... and..."

Hannibal was suddenly beside him, hand on his shoulder, and when Face saw BA come into the hall, he knew he was done. He couldn't fight them all.

"Things will change, Face. We'll make them change. But we can't do that if you kill Wrenn. That would kill us all. You understand, kid? You can't let him decide your future. You're the only one who can do that."

_Things never change now. He lie, like always. You believe, like always._ Harry smirked at him, standing beside BA's bulk. _This one, too. You think he never lie - but he the one who cut you. And your precious colonel? He tie you up - just like those other men did. Just like that hospital did._ Harry laughed now._ Just like I did..._

Face looked at Hannibal, at BA. Was it true? Had they attacked him? Thinking of BA's explanation of the cut, he knew. Harry was right. It was all a lie. It always had been.

Defeated, Face nodded. It was over. Not in the way Hannibal thought. But it was over. He knew that now.

He allowed himself to be guided into the living room, sat quietly on the couch, Murdock close by. He closed his eyes, waiting to be summoned to the van, driven away from his only hope of salvation.

_You always mine now... always..._


End file.
